The Promise Of A Shooting Star
by siobhane
Summary: (Revision in progress 09/16)Ten years ago, six heroes battled Ultimecia, but only five returned. When the one that was lost finally makes her way back to her own time, she finds the world has moved on without her, the one she loves is broken beyond repair, and coming back may have dangerous consequences. AU/Divergence. Squall/Rinoa, Seifer/Zell
1. Chapter 1

_Notes: This story was originally posted in its entirety, but I was unhappy with the technical writing. I planned to only post revisions on ao3 and quietly update chapters here once revisions were complete. Unfortunately, due to the addition of new content and continuity issues that caused some confusion between the ao3 revised version and this one, I chose to take down the remaining unrevised chapters here and will be updating both at the same time. _

_New readers, please note, this story does follow a m/m pairing as well as Squall and Rinoa. They are integral to the story, and I understand not everyone is interested in slash pairings. I have taken pains to treat them as I would any het couple in their interactions with one another - there is physical affection and references to sexual acts, but nothing explicit. In the original posting, it was either something readers really enjoyed about the story, or they really hated and there didn't seem to be any in between. So, read at your own risk, and please don't complain to management if it isn't your thing. ;)_

_Also note, this story contains references to suicide, violence, character death, child abuse, kidnapping, mild torture, mild sexual references, domestic violence, and a lot of foul language. Read at your own risk._

_Cover photo is an oil painting by my bestie Emma G. and is used with permission._

_That said, hope you enjoy!_

* * *

_Prologue_

* * *

He sat in darkness and listened to the drip of the faucet in the bathroom sink.

Three days since he dared to venture outside the quiet, safe space of his apartment and even longer since he'd showered. He hadn't slept in too many days to count and now he saw and heard things that weren't there.

Her shadow on the wall, the echo of her laughter, bouncing around the room. He focused on the cadence of that steady drip against porcelain to drown her out, but it drove him mad.

_**-tick-**_

_**-tick-**_

_**-tick-**_

If he closed his eyes, the nightmares would come. Night after night, he walked through an abyss, a wasteland, in search of something that wasn't there.

Everyone believed him on vacation, gone away to some Estharian resort to relax.

No one came by his apartment. The phone didn't ring.

It was a blessed, welcome silence after so many months and years of constant yet unwanted contact with people.

Smiling. Pretending. Faking it. Every single day lived in a joyless, soul sucking vacuum, every lost second, another drop of water down the drain.

_**I'm okay.**_

_-tick-_

_**Really.**_

_-tick-_

_**I'm fine.**_

Ten years since that long ago day he woke up in a field of flowers to a brilliant cerulean sky and expected to find her there.

Ten years of waiting. Ten years of pretending, lying to himself, to everyone around him.

_I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay._

Ten years of waiting to start his life. Ten years of waiting to die.

He survived somehow, but it was a life lived on repeat. Day in, day out, the same endless cycle. Work. Train. Sleep. Wake from nightmare. Work. Train. Sleep. Wake from nightmare. Over and over again, until a stark numbness settled over him and he lost sight of why anything mattered.

He learned to fake it, to be the solid, reliable leader they could count in not to freak out or lose his cool in a tough situation.

But hairline cracks ran all through him, cracks that widened day by day and soon he would bust apart and disintegrate. He couldn't keep sleepwalking through his days and and he couldn't keep lying awake staring at the ceiling every night.

If he closed his eyes, he could hear her. The sound of her laughter. Her voice...

_-tick-_

_**I can't...**_

_-tick-_

_**I won't think of her.**_

_-tick-_

_**She's not coming back.**_

Ten years was a long time. Long enough to move past it, but the dreams and memories wouldn't let him. The darkness of that long ago void called out to him. Her voice echoed through a dream-scape, a plea to come and find her.

And everywhere he looked, memories surfaced. Her ghost, in every hallway. Every city, a veritable tour down memory lane. Every night sky, a promise of what could have been and never was.

How long was too long to wait?

He waited for days that turned into weeks, then weeks that turned into years. He kept his promise, but she never came. Ten long years of waiting as he clung to hope through some miracle she would come back. Ten years of living in black and white and watching the second hand sweep around the clock face. Every single second lost to the past, and every coming second one he would never get to spend with her.

Even now, ten years later there was no reprieve, no solace or acceptance. She was lost to time, gone forever. The only casualty of a war no one was supposed to survive.

What did that mean, _gone_? If she was _gone_, why did he still feel her pull on him from somewhere, every single second of every single day?

He couldn't live like this.

He picked up a bottle of sleeping pills and dumped them on the coffee table. They spilled across the surface, gel caps shining in the darkness like little glittering stars. A handful at a time, he swallowed them down, each mouthful chased with a pull of of cheap vodka. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty, until they were all gone.

Maybe now he could sleep without waking in a panic, covered in sweat and screaming out her name. Maybe now, he would know peace.

As he closed his eyes, he listened to the steady drip of the faucet, each soft tap another lost second of his life. He drifted, the pull of unconsciousness like gravity.

_-tick-_

_**Where are you?**_

_-tick-_

_**Hyne, I miss you.**_

_-tick-_

**_I'll see you soon_.**

* * *

**One**

* * *

Seifer Almasy stood at the edge of a cliff behind the old orphanage and watched the tide roll in. The surf below was rough, the blue-gray water capped in foamy white as it churned ahead of the coming storm. Heavy waves broke all along the shoreline and smashed into the rocks below with enough force that the salty spray misted his skin some 30 feet above the sea. The smell of coming rain was strong and Seifer breathed it in - a scent he'd only recently come to appreciate.

He turned toward the crumbling orphanage and surveyed the work completed over the last few months. There was still a long way to go, but he'd repaired all the exterior doors, rebuilt the rotten roof and the crumbled front wall was a work in progress.

After that, he'd take care of the water-damaged floors, rip out and replace the electrical work, and fix the broken windows in the back. It was a labor of love, one he hoped to finish before winter came.

Edea willed him the house when she passed away, offering him a much needed refuge from the rest of the world upon his release from prison. He never expected a thing from her, not even an apology. He certainly didn't deserve it - not after everything that happened. Yet she willed him, and him alone, the entire property, including the beach and the lighthouse, and a letter absolving him of any lingering blame for what happened.

Not that her absolution did Seifer much good. He still served nine years in prison for his crimes. Nine long years to reflect on what his crimes, as if he ever had any say in how things went down, but at least he came out ahead and far better off than he expected.

Inheriting the house was a blessing. Far from civilization, Seifer was on his own out here. The nearest town ten miles away, his nearest neighbor almost the same distance - it was a perfect location for a man who just wanted to be left alone.

He headed back toward the house and made a mental note to get rid of the crumbled bird bath he forgot about and almost tripped over every morning.

Inside, in the small kitchen, he opened a can of soup and dumped it in a pot. The lights flickered the instant he turned on the stove, and he scowled up at them with a silent plea to stay on.

Maybe he should put off the exterior work in favor of installing an electrical system that didn't make him fear he would burn the place down every time he turned on a light. The wiring in the place was ancient and in dire need of an update. Years of exposure to the elements corroded the wires, rendering some useless and others a barbecue waiting to happen.

As he passed by the front window on his way to the bathroom, he caught sight of a figure turning in confused circles in the field beyond the gate. There was always the threat of someone who meant him harm, someone he wronged during the war, or a teenage thrill seeker or two. There was little reason for anyone to come this far without invitation, not even the pestilential devout Church of Hyne bent on saving every soul on the planet, though they tried in the beginning. The house was just too far away, and Seifer Almasy was beyond redemption.

The figure moved without purpose. Lost, she wandered one direction, then another.

_Let her be lost. Mind your own business, Almasy._

The soup on the stove began to boil and the room filled with the scent of something unidentifiable but vaguely edible. He left the window, reduced the heat on the stove and grabbed a bowl from the cabinet.

Thunder rumbled, the lights flickered, sputtered, then went out.

"Shit."

He switched off the stove and dug through the drawer for a lighter and a flashlight. With the lighter, he lit the candle on the table and then two on the mantle over the fireplace. Soft amber light filled the dark room and the individual flames danced on a draft, but it took the edge off the relative shabbiness of the place. He didn't switch on the flashlight, pocketing it instead for future use.

He was about to fill his bowl when rain began to fall heavy against the roof and he thought of the lost woman outside. He assumed she drove herself here and was smart enough to leave when the sky opened up but he went to the window to check on her anyway.

She was still there, back pressed against the nearest pillar in the front courtyard, her face in her hands. Now that she was closer, Seifer's curiosity was piqued. There was something familiar about this girl, but he couldn't put his finger on what. The downpour plastered her dark hair to her neck and shoulders, streamed down her bare arms and legs and over a pair of battered combat boots.

Sky blue and black.

She reminded him of someone. Someone he knew well once.

But it couldn't be the same girl. Rinoa Heartilly died in the war, ten years ago.

Seifer opened the front door and stepped out into the rain, aware that it was only his conscience projecting past sins upon the lost woman. He didn't often dwell in the past, but it occasionally came back to haunt him in the strangest of ways and at the strangest of times.

Whatever the case, he couldn't very well leave her out there.

"Hey!" he called. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

She turned toward him and his jaw dropped.

Not possible.

It _couldn't_ be.

* * *

Zell Dincht dozed in a chair next to a hospital bed in Balamb Memorial, and he dreamed of dancing hot dogs.

A sound cut through the semi-lucid dream and Zell sat up and wiped away bit of drool from his chin, glad to see Quistis and not Selphie. The hospital staff banned Selphie from the room for crying so loudly it disturbed the other patients. The petite little ball of drama attempted to sneak in anyway, which was why Zell was posted at the bedside.

"Any change?" Quistis asked.

"No," Zell said. "The doctor says his vitals are looking good, and he should wake up some time in the next day or so."

"What about brain function?" she asked. "Any improvement?"

Zell shrugged. "Doc says we won't know until he wakes up. He might be fine. He might not."

Quistis, elegant and trim in a pair of dress slacks and a cream sweater, sat and folded her slender hands in her lap.

"I don't understand why he'd do this to himself."

Zell didn't understand it any better than Quistis, and it upset him to think that this was no accident.

Earlier in the day, Zell stopped by Squall's place to water the plants and pick up the mail. He hadn't been asked to, but Zell still had Squall's key from his last trip out of town and figured he'd pop in and check on things.

Inside, he found Squall on the couch, unconscious, unresponsive and barely breathing. Squall's face was a sickly gray, his lips slightly blue and a puddle of vomit spilled across the couch cushion to the floor.

The moment Zell spied the empty medicine bottle on the table and the nearly empty bottle of vodka on the floor, Zell knew Squall overdosed on something.

Zell just didn't understand _why_. Nothing in his recent behavior indicated Squall lost his will to live, nothing at all to telegraph his apparent pain or desperation. Maybe, it was an accident, but Zell's gut said it wasn't.

The only time Zell remembered signs of depression in his friend was after their return from Time Compression. Everyone made it back safe except Rinoa. Squall took the loss much harder than everyone else, but he eventually got over it. He moved on the best he could, just like the rest of them. Or so they'd all believed.

Whatever drove Squall to this, Zell was grateful he'd stopped by when he did. If he waited until later in the day, Squall would not be alive now. As it was, Squall barely pulled through.

"Did he say anything to you the past few weeks?" Quistis asked. "Anything weird?"

Quistis already asked this question at least three other times, and Zell didn't have any new information for her. He hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary in Squall's behavior. None of them noticed a thing.

"Dr. Kadowaki told me the sleeping pills were prescription," Quistis said.

"I guess we'll have to wait for him to wake up to find out what happened," Zell said.

On the bed, Squall stirred. His hands curled into fists and he let out a long, heavy sigh. Both Zell and Quistis moved to the edge of their respective chairs and glanced at each other as they leaned forward to peer at their friend. Squall's eyes didn't open, but his lips moved, and silently formed a word. Quistis clasped Zell's hand and her face filled with wild hope.

Squall's lips moved again, but no sound came out. He was talking in his sleep, something Zell had become familiar with during those long months during the war. Back then, Squall called out for Sis more often than not but he occasionally muttered to himself about fighting and strategy, too.

"What's he trying to say?" Zell wondered aloud.

"I don't know."

Squall moaned and his whole body jerked violently beneath the sheet. Alarmed, Zell hit the call button to summon the doctor. Squall's mouth formed the word again, and this time, they both heard it.

"_Rinoa."_

* * *

Rinoa Heartilly had the worst luck in the world. She returned from Time Compression in one piece, only to find herself facing a fast moving and violent storm. Overhead, the clouds swelled, heavy and pregnant with moisture and the wind carried with it the scent of rain. She needed to find shelter before the sky broke open, but she wanted to find Squall first.

He said he would wait for her here, but as she looked around, there was no sign of him. The only thing here was the orphanage and a beat up pick-up truck that wasn't there before.

"Squall?" she called "Are you here?"

A gale-force wind whipped her hair around her face and sent flower petals dancing in its wake, but no one living answered her call.

On the horizon, clouds bruised purple boiled to a vicious crescendo. The storm, moving fast, would be here in a matter of minutes.

She didn't understand. Where was everyone? Squall promised to meet her here. Was she in wrong place? Was she mistaken about where they were supposed to meet?

Rinoa bit her lip as she took one more look around, hoping against hope that she wasn't alone. She couldn't be the only one who made it back. They were all supposed to come back together, but there wasn't a soul around. She didn't know what she would do if she was the only survivor. That thought was too painful to even contemplate.

Maybe she was the first one back and they were right behind her. That must be it. They were on their way and she would see them soon.

A heavy roll of thunder startled her, and she moved closer to the orphanage, prepared to take cover. She stepped inside the rusted gate, remembering Squall's promise.

_I'll be waiting here..._

A cold deluge washed over her as the rain began to fall, her clothing soaked to through in seconds. She gasped at the unexpected chill, wiped her bangs from her eyes and continued her search for her friends.

Where the heck were they?

"Squall? Are you here?"

_I'll be waiting for you, so if you come here, you'll find me._

Exhausted, Rinoa leaned against one of the pillars along the front walkway. Maybe she would just wait for him here.

That final battle was a long, hard fight to the end, followed by what seemed days and days of wandering through a nightmarish nothing, like being lost in a maze with no walls, but no exit. Nothing to see but miles and miles of cracked earth and boiling sky and an endless plain of nowhere that siphoned all the hope from her heart.

She'd seen Squall erased from existence, the pillar in the ballroom where he stood the night they met, vacant. His face distorted and twisted and the shape of him flickered in and out like a bad florescent bulb. She almost convinced herself he was just a figment of her imagination.

"No," she said. "It was real. _He's_ real."

She was here, in the place they'd agreed upon, and he _had_ to be real. He would be here soon. She was sure of it.

_I promise._

"Hey!" a voice called. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

A tall man peered at her from the doorway of the orphanage, a face she recognized, and cold fear raced through her limbs at the sight of him. She knew who he was, and he was the absolute last person she wanted or expected to see here.

"Seifer? What are _you_ doing here?"

He stepped into the downpour, full of disbelief as he approached her with cautious steps and a wary posture. Rinoa didn't move in his direction, nor did she retreat. She would fight him alone if necessary and she readied her weapon just in case.

"Holy shit," he breathed. "It _is_ you."

Awe-struck, his eyes traveled her face and he took in every single feature like he hadn't seen her in years and could not believe she was real. She backed up against the pillar and lifted her weapon, aiming for his heart.

He had no right to be _here_, of all places. No right at all. This was their place, so why was he the one standing here and not Squall?

"Back up," she ordered.

Seifer lifted his hands and took a step back, still in shock.

Seifer was older than she remembered. A _lot_ older - closer to thirty than twenty. The last time she saw him wasn't _that_ long ago - only days and not years. How could he have aged this much in such a short amount of time?

"I'm unarmed, Rin," he said.

"What are you doing here?"

"I live here."

As far as Rinoa knew, no one lived here but Edea and Cid. He must be lying, using the place as a hideout.

"So, you're on the run and thought you'd crash here for a while?" she asked. "You've got some nerve."

"On the run?" he asked. "No, I served my time. Nine delightful years in the hell that is D-district. I'm sure you remember it."

"Right," she said with a humorless laugh. "I'm supposed to buy that?"

"Why don't you put down your weapon and come inside," he said. "I think we need to talk."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she said. "They'll be back soon, so I'm going to wait right here until they show up."

There was a bright flash of lightning and Rinoa flinched. The storm was getting nastier by the minute, but she was determined to wait it out. It would end soon enough and a little rain wouldn't kill her.

"Rinoa, they're not coming," Seifer said. "They're already back."

"Then where are they?" she demanded.

He wiped a hand over his face and gave a weary sigh.

"Come inside."

"Tell me where they are."

"Rinoa..." he began but faltered.

Her patience was growing thin and she wished Seifer would stop staring at her like she was a ghost.

"Seifer, _where are they_?"

"They came back ten years ago," he said. "Without you."

That wasn't what she expected him to say. _Ten years?_ It couldn't be that long - only a day or two at the most.

"Whatever game you're playing, just stop," she warned.

"Rin, the war ended ten years ago," he said. "Everyone thinks you're dead."


	2. Chapter 2

Two

* * *

Elizabeth Kadowaki-Leonhart stood at the window of her ex-husband's hospital room and watched his pale face as he slept.

How _dare_ he try to leave them this way? He had a son, for Hyne's sake.

When Zell called and said the word _overdose_, Liz didn't believe him. But here Squall was, lying on a hospital bed and the doctors weren't sure if the damage done to his body and brain would be permanent. Squall Leonhart was no coward, but this was a desperate thing to do. No matter how bad things were between them, Liz couldn't imagine why Squall would choose to do this to himself or to their son.

Their marriage only lasted three years, but Liz loved him. She still loved him, but she couldn't live with him, or the ghost that haunted him.

Liz convinced herself it was okay if she was not the great love of his life, but it was a lie. Perhaps in time, Squall might learn to love her the way she needed him to, but it was too hard to stay with a man who never opened up, never let her in, and woke up, night after night in terror, screaming another woman's name.

By day, Squall was perfectly cool, collected and put together and he never let on he only got an average of four hours a sleep each night. She begged him to get help, and he refused and dismissed her concerns as no big deal.

To Liz, it __was__ a big deal.

Her husband woke up from nightmares four nights a week, clutching frantically at the sheets as he gasped for breath, Rinoa's name on his lips. Eventually, it wore Liz down to her breaking point and she gave him an ultimatum: if he would not get help, she would leave with their son and file for divorce.

"__If that's what you really want, I won't stop you."__

It wasn't what Liz wanted at all. Not for her. Not for Seth. Not for Squall.

As she packed her things that night, he said he was _sorry_. He never said he loved her and he didn't beg for her to stay. He watched her walk out the door, dry eyed and vacant as though it didn't matter if she left or not.

For as cold as he was to her, Squall was a _great_ father. Liz worried in the beginning he wasn't cut out for fatherhood, but she was wrong. Squall loved their son Seth more than life itself.

Which was why Liz didn't understand Squall's reasons for doing this to himself. Something sent him careening off the rails and she was terrified that he wouldn't come back from it. She would never forgive him if this meant Seth would have a vegetable for a father.

She wondered, if she chose to stick it out and stay, if he would be okay right now. Maybe, if she never allowed herself to be blinded by jealousy and selfishness, maybe if she'd seen past the depths of his stoic defenses to the pain he hid so well, if it would have been enough to prevent this.

She wiped her tears away and composed herself as footsteps approached in the hall behind her.

"Lizzie?"

There was only one person who called her that. She turned around and faced her former father in law, forcing a smile as he held out his arms to embrace her.

"You are a sight for these tired old eyes," he said. "You get better looking every time I see you."

"Oh, stop, you old flirt," she said.

"I mean every word, Lizzy," he said. "You look fantastic."

The President was one of the kindest and most sincere people Liz knew, and he never failed to include her in his family. Even after the divorce was finalized, Laguna was supportive, kind and he called at least once a week to check up on her and Seth.

"How you holding up?" he asked.

"I honestly don't know," she said. "I had no idea he was this bad off."

Laguna shoved a hand in his pocket and rubbed the back of his neck with the other as he looked through the window, where Squall lay still and silent on the bed.

"Whatever happens, I'm going to take care of him," Laguna promised. "And you too. Whatever you and Seth need, Lizzy, anything at all, just ask."

"I can't let you do that, Laguna," she said. "You've done so much already."

"One of the benefits of being an eccentric, rich old bachelor is that you can do damn near anything you want," Laguna said. "Hyne knows, this is something I should have done a long time ago. Maybe if I had, he wouldn't have gotten this bad."

Liz thought otherwise. Squall's childhood was devastatingly lonely, but his scars didn't come from that. It was what Squall lost during the war, and no amount of fatherly affection could erase the pain of Squall's loss. Nothing could heal him except Rinoa Heartilly herself, and that just wasn't going to happen.

"Besides, I need to feel useful, and retirement doesn't agree with me," he said. "I'm bored out of my mind, Lizzie. I miss my son and my grandson."

Liz's eyes filled with tears and she embraced Laguna. She wished that Squall had inherited just a fraction of Laguna's raw, open honesty.

Laguna embraced her back and cradled her head against his shoulder like she was his own daughter.

"Have you been in to see him yet?" Laguna asked as he pulled away.

"I'm too angry," she admitted. "He's resented you all his adult life for what he feels was abandonment, yet was willing to abandon his own son? I don't understand that."

Laguna sighed and dug his hand deeper into his pocket.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way," she said.

"No, you're right," Laguna said. "And you're right to be angry, but Lizzy, I don't think this is his fault. I think he's sick, sweetie. The kind of sick that no amount of medicine or magic or chicken soup can cure."

Anger burned her from the inside but there was a fair amount of guilt, too. Guilt for being angry at a man who was too proud to ask for help when he needed it most. She couldn't imagine that kind of pain, and she couldn't imagine hurting so much that swallowing almost thirty sleeping pills was the only way to ease it. It hurt to think of Squall sitting there alone in his apartment, dying second by second on the sofa as the overload of sedative slowed his heart and brain function to a near flat line. It was a cascading failure that no one saw coming.

"He used to have nightmares about her," Liz said. "Really bad ones. He'd wake up screaming, sometimes sobbing her name...Rinoa, Rinoa, _Rinoa_... Begging her to come back. Broke my heart..."

"You think she has something to do with this?" Laguna asked.

"I don't know," Liz said. "All I know is, I failed him, Laguna. I could have prevented this. If I hadn't walked away-"

"It's not your fault," Laguna said. "I think he hid it so well, none of us really saw it. The only thing we can do now is help him through it."

* * *

"Come inside, Rinoa" Seifer said. "I know you don't believe me, but I can prove it."

Rinoa Heartilly, still seventeen, still full of youthful vibrancy and girlish innocence stood in Seifer's front yard, exactly the way he remembered her. She still wore the sky blue duster with the wings on the back and a black ribbon around her bicep in support of the Timber resistance, not a detail out of place. How that could be, Seifer could only guess, but she was ten years too late for the joyful, triumphant reunion with the others.

It was impossible, but here she was, not a day older than the last time Seifer laid eyes on her.

But then again, the world was a strange place, full of strange things that couldn't be explained. Nothing was truly impossible.

"Rin, please," he said as he offered a hand.

She clenched her jaw and lifted her weapon higher. Seifer would have been both blind and stupid not to read the warning in her eyes. He took a step back and shoved his hands deep into his pockets to prove he was no threat.

"Do your really want to stand out here in the rain?" he asked.

"I don't trust you."

"I'm not asking you to trust me," he snapped. "I'm asking you to quit bein' an idiot and come out of the rain."

Her grip on the weapon wavered and she lowered it an inch. Suspicious, her eyes flicked over him, but she nodded and allowed him to lead her inside, the Shooting Star trained on his back the whole time.

He retrieved a couple towels from the bathroom, then went to the bedroom and found a t-shirt and a pair of cut off sweat pants for her to change into. They were too big, but at least she'd be dry. She accepted them with caution, like they might be poisonous or explosive. Wordlessly, she backed out of the room, weapon aimed at him when Seifer pointed her to the bath. In his own room, Seifer kicked off his boots and stripped out of his wet clothes and left them in a pile on the floor.

Back in the kitchen, Rinoa was dressed and waiting for him. The shirt fell to her knees and Seifer grinned. He'd forgotten how small she was. She lowered her weapon, but stayed vigilant for any sign he might attack her.

Seifer hunted through a pile of papers and books on the desk, things Cid left behind. Somewhere in the mess was a collection of articles and books on the aftermath of the war and everything that followed. He meant to use them as kindling, but he was either a closet sentimental unable to part with things that belonged to Matron, or he was just a masochist.

When he found what he was looking for, Seifer thumbed through the assortment of newspaper clippings and photographs, then dropped a pile of them on the table in front of Rinoa. He pulled up a chair across from her and straddled it with his arms crossed over the back.

The articles and pictures were in no particular order, but they chronicled the years she missed, from the triumphant but bittersweet return of everyone's favorite heroes, to the various weddings and divorces, achievements, and gossip about the five who saved the world. Among them were articles about Rinoa, documenting her absence from the world and the speculation that surrounded her disappearance. After all, a missing Sorceress was something to be concerned about.

The article on top of the pile showed a picture of her grief stricken father with the title, "_Caraway's Daughter Declared Legally Dead._" A smaller insert in the article showed a black and white photo of her friends gathered around the memorial Caraway built on his estate in her honor. The memorial was fashioned in the shape of a weeping angel. It was beautiful, if not a bit sentimental and showy.

"Look at the date," he said. "It's three years after the war."

Rinoa stared blankly at the article and flipped to the next one. Seifer winced at the engagement photo of Elizabeth Kadowaki and Squall, taken from the Balamb society pages.

If it was beginning to sink in, Seifer couldn't tell. Rinoa's face was a blank canvas and revealed nothing as she stared at an older Squall on the arm of the woman that he married and more recently divorced.

"He doesn't exactly look thrilled, does he?" Seifer commented.

Liz Kadowaki beamed at the camera, her lovely smile full of happiness, while Squall's was forced and strained and more of a grimace than a smile.

Rinoa didn't respond and flipped to the next item in the stack. This one was a photograph of Squall with a dark-haired toddler snugged against his chest, the boy's small fist clutching Squall's collar. Squall's eyes were closed, his hand cupped against the back of the boy's neck, his cheek resting against the top of the boy's head.

The first time Seifer had seen this photo, he was moved to the point of jealousy, for reasons he couldn't explain.

"That's his son, Seth," Seifer said. "He's almost five now, I think."

There was no mistaking the boy for anyone but Squall's offspring. If the serious expression and chestnut hair didn't give it away, the ice blue eyes did. Seth was a carbon copy of his father, right down to the indifferent stare.

The next photo was more recent and showed Squall in a field with Seth on his shoulders. The wore broad, identical smiles, Seth a miniature of Squall in every way but the sprinkling of freckles on his nose and cheeks.

"I never got to see him smile," Rinoa whispered. "Not like this."

One fat tear rolled down her cheek, glistening in the candle light. The hand holding the photo trembled and she dropped it to press both hands against her face.

"This can't be real," she said through her fingers. "It can't."

"Keep looking, Rin," he said. "I guarantee you, this is for real."

"I think I'm going to be sick," she said and bolted up from the table.

She fled into the hallway, and a second later the bathroom door slammed. Inside, Rinoa coughed and then began to retch. Seifer grabbed a clean towel from the drawer in the kitchen, wet it and wrung it out. Maybe, she'd consider it a peace offering. Maybe not.

Too much information, too fast.

As he paused outside the closed bathroom door, he considered his options. He didn't want to be responsible for her, but it wasn't fair to dump her off at Garden and wish her luck. It was his fault she'd gotten involved in the first place. He told her about SeeD. He arranged her meeting with Cid. He was the idiot who ran off to play boy hero to impress her, and she wound up right in the thick of it.

All Seifer wanted was to help her cause. He never set out to burn the world, and he paid the price for his arrogance.

Better she know the truth now, instead of sending her off blind and unaware of how much everything changed in her absence.

He opened the bathroom door and found her crouched over the toilet, her hands braced against the floor and her forehead resting against the edge of the bowl. Dark hair spilled across her shoulders in wet tangles and her face was a bleached white.

Seifer knelt down beside her and put a cautious hand on her shoulder. He wasn't surprised when she flinched.

She took a few deep breaths and her fingers curled around the rim of the toilet hard enough to make her knuckles go white. Teardrops fell onto the battered linoleum floor, twin puddles on the aged, yellowed surface.

"Please, Seifer. I can't handle any more. Please don't say anything else."

"If that's what you want," he said. He pressed the damp cloth into her hand. "Here. Clean yourself up and I'll make up a bed."

* * *

Quistis waited in the hallway outside Squall's room, a cup of stale coffee in her hand. There was no word so far on Squall's latest round of tests, and the longer she waited, the more she worried.

A violent seizure followed immediately after his utterance of Rinoa's name, necessitating the use of restraints so he wouldn't injure himself. All tests prior to the seizure were promising, but now there were questions about whether or not he suffered brain damage.

He'd screamed Rinoa's name, over and over until the sedative kicked in.

It was difficult for Quistis to understand what drove Squall over the edge. It couldn't be Rinoa. Quistis could barely remember what she looked like, and it didn't make sense that Squall might still hope Rinoa would come back. When she disappeared, Squall had known her all of three months, and though he was fond of her, maybe even in love, it was total insanity that he still carried a torch.

This had to be something else. Stress, lack of sleep, an accident. Something besides Rinoa Heartilly.

When Dr. Benjamin Gallagher emerged from the room, Quistis turned in expectation. Ben was Squall's physician, and Quistis' fiancee. In an unconscious imitation of Rinoa's old nervous habit, she clutched the strand of pearls at her throat.

"I can tell by your face, it's not good news," she said.

Ben took her by the hand and led her back to the bench. Quistis feared the worst as he held her hand between his.

"Ben, just tell me," she said. "I can handle it."

"It's not exactly bad news, I just don't know what to make of it," he said. "His scans show an increased level of brain activity, consistent with extreme agitation. We see this in patients with dementia fairly often, but it's a bit unusual in an unconscious state. At least, it is to the degree we're seeing in Squall."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"We only see this kind of agitation in patients who are experiencing exceptionally high levels of anxiety or stress," Ben said. "His brain waves indicate his mind is functioning as though he's fighting a battle. What we first perceived as a seizure is actually a physical response to an exceptionally intense dream."

"So he's having nightmares?" Quistis asked.

"Really bad nightmares," Ben confirmed. "Liz told me this is an ongoing issue, as well as chronic insomnia."

Quistis was relieved. If that's all it was...

"Quistis, whatever is causing the insomnia is something that needs be treated once he wakes up," Ben said. "Otherwise, there's a very good chance he's going to attempt again."

"You think the nightmares caused this?"

"Without saying too much, yeah, I believe they did," Ben said. "He has a history of sleep disorders, and lack of sleep can cause anxiety, hallucinations and paranoia along with a lot of other unpleasant side effects. He's probably not sleeping because of the nightmares, and the nightmares are a symptom of some greater issue at work. I'm thinking along the lines of PTSD or a chemical imbalance." He paused and gripped Quistis' hand tighter. "Either way, he tried to kill himself. Once he's awake, we have no choice but to put him on a 72 hour involuntary psychiatric hold."

"That could jeopardize his whole career, Ben," Quistis said.

"It might, but consider the alternative."

"And what are the conditions that need to be met to keep him longer?"

"I think you know the answer to that."

* * *

When Rinoa woke, she could tell it was late afternoon by the color of the light shining through the ragged curtains above her bed. A soft breeze stirred the stale air around her, and she breathed in the briny scent of ocean. She rolled over onto her side to take in the room around her and winced. Every single part of her body hurt as she sat up and blinked sleep from her eyes. From the looks of it, she'd been asleep for almost a full day.

The room was full of child sized beds, most of them stripped down to the frame or dismantled and left to rot against the far wall. Boxes of broken toys were stacked in one corner, their once bright primary colors faded to dusty pastels, dry-rotted high chairs lined up in rows next to them.

It was one of the saddest things Rinoa had ever seen.

A part of her didn't want to get up at all. Sleep hadn't robbed her of the knowledge that she was too late to the party and time moved mercilessly forward without her. The pictures of Squall's little boy drove that point home the way nothing else did. Not the memorial her father had built, not the engagement announcement, not the newspaper headline that declared her dead.

It was that picture of Squall with a miniature copy of himself in his arms. It was that smile she'd never seen before. He was so content in those photos, like he had everything he ever wanted or needed.

Rinoa longed for what she lost, and what she lost, it seemed, was... _everything_. Fate hadn't even given her a chance, but she wanted that lost time back, and she was insanely jealous of the woman who won Squall's heart.

Jealous anger was what propelled her out of bed and into the bathroom, where she vomited again, even though there was nothing left to give up. She couldn't remember the last time she ate. Sometime before entering time compression.

So... _Ten years ago_? How could it have been ten _years_? How did she get here?

She'd been so lost, so close to giving in to the cold darkness around her. Nothing and nobody for what seemed like days. Then, a shape in the mist, someone else there with her, and she followed but could never quite catch up. When the mist cleared, she was alone, outside the orphanage, certain that Squall would meet her there, but found Seifer in his place.

She washed her face in the sink and used her finger and some of Seifer's toothpaste to brush her teeth. When she straightened, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and inspected the face staring back at her. She looked exactly the same as she did the day they embarked on that last battle. How could the face in the mirror belong to a twenty-seven year old woman? How was it possible for her to be lost in that hellish abyss for ten whole years?

Seifer was nowhere to be found when she entered the kitchen, and she was glad for that. She wasn't sure if she could trust him or not. So far, he hadn't done anything to harm her, but that didn't mean he wouldn't.

She sat at the table and picked up where she left off the night before.

The next item in the stack was a wedding photo of Selphie and Irvine. Selphie looked beautiful and Irvine quite dapper in his tuxedo. It came as no surprise to see the wedding colors were two different shades of yellow.

_I missed it. I missed Selphie's wedding._

Her heart hurt. She should have been there to celebrate her friend's big day, and she never even got the chance.

She wiped away a tear and looked at the next item in the stack - Squall's wedding.

Rinoa wanted to put it aside, but sick fascination wouldn't allow her to turn her eyes away.

His wife was gorgeous. Dark hair. Big brown eyes. Charming smile. Freckles.

Squall didn't look very happy in the photo. There was a certain emptiness in his eyes that made her wonder. Then again, this was Squall and it looked like he hadn't changed that much. For all she knew, he was thrilled beyond his wildest dreams and it just didn't show.

She thumbed through the rest of the stack and noticed Squall only smiled in the pictures taken with his little boy. She was glad he'd found something that made him smile but she wished like hell that she hadn't missed it.

The rest of the pile was a series of articles from various newspapers and magazines. Some were about the recognition her friends had received after the war. Others were articles that speculated on Rinoa's whereabouts. She skimmed these, but had to stop when they all started to sound the same. The theories were that she'd been lost in Time Compression, had gone into hiding, that there was a conspiracy to hide her true location, or that she'd died in battle and passed on her power to an unnamed Sorceress.

Her stomach rumbled and she debated whether she should eat something or not. She was still nauseous, but decided she should try to eat something anyway. The power was still out, so whatever was in his fridge probably crawled with bacteria, which certainly wouldn't help her stomach any.

In the cabinet over the sink, she found dozens of cans of soup, a box of crackers, a bottle of vodka and a jar of peanut butter. She grabbed the crackers and the peanut butter and sat down. She wasn't a huge fan of peanut butter, but for some reason that first bite of it smeared on a cracker was divine. She moaned and shoved the rest into her mouth, then proceeded to eat an entire package of crackers.

Seifer walked into the kitchen as she scraped the last of the peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon. He stared at her as she scraped the bottom to get the very last of it out and she pointedly ignored the look he gave her. He'd almost killed her. He didn't have a right to be pissed about a stupid jar of peanut butter and some crackers.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Apparently I haven't eaten in ten years," she said lightly. "So yeah, you might say that."

"Once I get the power back on, I'll make you something," he said.

"Let me guess. Soup? Or soup?" she said. "What's the deal with that? There's like a hundred cans in there."

"I like it."

"Really?"

"No. But it's cheap and it's quick and I'm not much of a cook."

"I don't suppose there's a grocery store around here anywhere, is there?"

"You're really that hungry?"

"I feel like I want to eat everything, but mostly I want cake and ice cream," she said. "I missed, like, ten birthdays. You wouldn't happen to have some coffee stashed away somewhere, would you?"

"Sorry, fresh out," he said.

Rinoa didn't see a coffee maker anywhere. Oh, Hyne. She would die without coffee.

"You have vodka, but not coffee."

"I wasn't allowed coffee in prison," he said. "And once I got out, I didn't really want it. Alcohol is different story."

"How can you not want coffee?" she moaned.

Rinoa didn't understand the expression on his face as he watched her. It wasn't quite yesterday's disbelief but it was close. Like he wasn't sure if she was real or not.

Seifer was the last person in the world she wanted to trust, but she found that she did trust him a little. Maybe because he'd told her the truth without sugar-coating it. And maybe it was because he wasn't the lunatic that had tried to kill her.

_Everyone thinks you're dead._

Those words slammed into her like a fist to the gut. They all thought she was _dead_.

"I eat, therefore I live," she muttered and licked the remnants of her meal from the spoon.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Rinoa regarded Seifer over the empty box of crackers. Now that the shock had worn off, the differences between then and now were even more apparent. He was deeply tanned and the salty ocean air had bleached his hair a pale, almost platinum blonde. Multiple prison-style tattoos curled up one muscular arm – crude work, but the design interesting and built around the shape of a Firecross. Time had been kind. Seifer was more handsome now than he'd been when she'd known him, and that was saying something.

She wondered if he'd managed to salvage some kind of happiness in the time between then and now. If he'd served nine years in prison, she doubted there'd been much opportunity for him.

In a way, Seifer had been as much a casualty of time as she'd been. Locked underground for nine years was not much different than what she had experienced. Both places were a gray, joyless hell with no way out.

She hoped someone had cared about him. She hoped he hadn't been alone. She hoped in the time he'd been out, he'd found some girl who didn't care what a bastard he could be, or about the things he'd done. Maybe, there was still hope for him.

"Put your shoes on," he said.

"Why?"

"Because we're going to get you some cake and ice cream, damn it."

* * *

_Oh, you're just a great leader, aren't you?_

_You can't handle everything on your own..._

Squall could _feel_ her. He didn't know where she was but he could feel her there, in his mind. He wanted to call out to her, to tell her he was sorry, but she couldn't hear him.

All around him, the sky was warped and distorted, black clouds twisted and rolled overhead. They closed in on him and pressed ever downward, heavy and suffocating.

He heard her voice behind him, and he turned to see the sky open up as the clouds rolled away. The cracked earth was washed in brilliant, sepia tinged sunshine.

The flowers were gone.

That had never happened before. An endless wasteland stretched out before him, cracked and baking under the hot sun. Under his heavy jacket, Squall began to sweat.

For just a moment, the silhouette of wings appeared against the blazing sky, then turned to ash and scattered to the wind to join the dust and the nothingness of this place.

_Nothing lasts in this world._

A figure wandered ahead of him in the distance - a child or someone short and small of stature. Squall peered through the haze and bright sunlight and began to move forward to seek the only other soul left in this ragged wasteland.

His boots were heavy, as though made of lead, his every step an impossible feat. As he drew closer, he recognized the small leather jacket, the jeans with the holes in the knees and in a panic, broke into a sprint.

"Seth!"

"Daddy?"

When the boy turned to him, his face melted into nothing. There was just a black hole where Seth's face should have been, and in it, the darkness swirled and threatened to suck him inside.

_Please, Hyne. Not Seth too. Not Seth. Not Seth._

This was just some twisted dream, another glitch in his fucked up head. Seth was the only thing Squall had ever really done right and the only living being on the planet he loved more than life itself. Squall didn't know why the boy was here, but he had to save him from this hell. Seth could not get lost here.

He got to his feet and continued on, but the closer he got, the further away Seth seemed.

_Someone you love may disappear before your very eyes._

"Seth!"

Squall sat up with a start and was forced back down. His arms and legs were restrained, tied down and he thrashed against it, only dimly aware of the bright lights and the rapid beep of a nearby monitor. He screamed his son's name, over and over and over and he couldn't stop as the threads of the dream refused to let him go.

"Doctor, it's happening again."

"Administer 50mg of tranquilizer. We need him stabilized."

"His heart rate is increasing doctor."

The sting of a needle in his arm. A flash of Seth's face as it dissolved into ash.

"Seth!"

_-tick-_

_-tick-_

_-darkness_


	3. Chapter 3

Three

* * *

When Squall woke, he didn't know where he was, but it wasn't the nightmare void of Time Compression. His body was weak and sore, as if he'd fought battles for days, and his eyes slid lazily over his surroundings for clues about where he might be.

Next to him, a monitor beeped a steady but annoying and intrusive rhythm. Stark white walls, a medicinal smell... a hospital?

On the other side of the bed, a figure slept soundly in a chair.

Not Liz.

Quistis.

His arms and legs were strapped to the bed rails with thick, padded restraints. Agitated, he struggled against them, unsure of why he was here, or why he was tied to the bed. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see his son.

Quistis stirred in her chair and sat up straight, looked him over, surprised to see him staring back at her.

"What the hell did you do?" he accused. "Take these off."

"Squall, you need to relax or they're going to tranquilize you again," she said. "Do you know why you're here?"

"You tell me."

She dragged her chair closer to his bedside and patted his cuffed hand. The pity in her eyes was infuriating, and Squall was sick of seeing that look on her face. Always trying to mother him, this one. Doing things for his own good. Telling him what to do.

Between Quistis and Liz, Squall was endlessly henpecked. Both of them were constantly after him about his sleeping habits, about the occasional skipped meal and the long hours he spent at the office. He just wanted to be left alone, and neither seemed capable of giving him a single moment of reprieve.

"You swallowed about thirty sleeping pills and chased it with a bottle of vodka," she said. "Do you remember that?"

His recollection was vague, but he did remember the pills. He swallowed a handful to make the shadow on the wall go away, to chase away the laughter of a phantom. All he wanted was to chase the constant torment of her ghost and her memory away, to kill the agony of her absence.

It didn't even make sense that after all this time that she still haunted him. He'd only been seventeen, and she was a girl he grew fond of, cared for, and then she was gone. Yet ten years later, he still heard her, still felt her, still longed for her so much he couldn't sleep at night, and he didn't understand _why_.

"I just wanted to sleep," he snapped.

"And you thought it would take thirty sleeping pills to do that?"

"I...I don't know."

Tears filled Quistis' eyes and her pity for him turned to sorrow. The late morning sunlight turned her honey-hued hair to molten gold and it blinded him.

All Squall's anger melted away and left him empty and scraped out on the inside as Quistis sat in her chair and wept quietly.

He didn't know what he intended when he took the pills. A peaceful night's sleep was first and foremost in his mind. The memory of it was a blur of hallucinations and phantoms and the insanity inducing _tick, tick, tick_, of the leaky faucet in the bathroom.

"Squall, you know we're here for you if you need us, right?" Quistis said. "We'll help you. All you have to do is ask."

"I'm fine."

"No you're _not_," she said. "You lied and said you were going to Esthar. You ate twice the amount of pills it would normally take to kill you. If Zell hadn't stopped in to check on your place, you'd be dead right now. You're _not_ fine."

"What the hell was Zell doing in my apartment?"

"You should be grateful."

Squall wasn't grateful, but he wasn't ungrateful either. Death would leave Seth without a father, and that was the one thing Squall couldn't abide. His son was everything to him. _Everything_.

"I want to see my son," he said.

"Liz said she'd stop by, but I don't think she wants him to see you like this."

"I don't care what she wants. He's my son, too, and I want to see him."

"I can't promise anything, but I'll ask, okay?"

She rubbed her hands together and he could tell that there was something on her mind. She had that _look_ on her face and he knew, whatever the news, it wasn't good.

"Out with it," he said.

"You need to know they're going to put you on psychiatric hold," Quistis said. "And pending that evaluation, they may keep you longer."

"What?"

"What do you expect, Squall? You tried to kill yourself."

"I didn't try to…" he began, but broke off.

He remembered his last thoughts before he drifted off and wondered if maybe that really _had_ been his intent at the time.

_I'll see you soon._

What did that mean? That he wanted to join Rinoa wherever she was?

He didn't have an answer. He'd gone almost eighty hours without sleep. He hadn't been thinking straight, his head full of the sound of her voice and his vision full of things that weren't real. Had his mind been so twisted and warped that he decided death was the better option?

He could recall feeling like she was there in the room with him, and he heard her voice call out his name with absolute clarity. He smelled rain and wildflowers and a hint of her perfume and for a few moments, Squall convinced himself he was in Centra waiting for her. That this time, she would be there and it would be like she never disappeared.

Why couldn't he let her go? Why did his mind insist on dreaming of her night after night when all he wanted to do was forget? In ten years, he should have been able to put her to rest and move on, but the truth was, he never felt like she was completely gone from the world. He felt her with him all the time, and she was with him night after night in dreams.

_If you're listening, Rinoa, let me go. You're destroying me._

Her memory was killing him, and he didn't know how much longer he could take it. In ten years, the only peace of mind he got was time spent with Seth. Whatever link he still shared with her - be it insanity or reality- it was responsible for the inevitable destruction of his marriage, his mind, and now, maybe his career.

That wasn't fair.

Liz would have stayed if he'd been able to open up to her, or at the very least, if he sought help for the nightmares and chronic insomnia that plagued him. She begged him to talk to her, and if not her, then to a mental health professional. Squall refused help and shut her out when her worry turned to resentment.

Liz tried and Squall didn't. It was as simple as that.

He didn't want Liz to walk out, but he was unable to say the words to make her stay. He let her leave because it wasn't fair to ask her to put up with his bullshit. She deserved better than he was able to give her.

In his own way, Squall cared for her and he made a commitment. He had every intention of following through on that commitment, and he would not have left her. Liz chose to leave him, and he understood why.

If he could somehow move past this, they could try to make it work. Not just for Seth's sake, or Liz's, but also for himself. She was a kind woman, but he never allowed her to be kind to him.

When it all came to an end, her kindness turned to a brittle, bitter anger and he deserved every cruel word she said before she walked out. Squall _was_ cold, and distant, and hard-headed, and he could be hateful when the mood struck him. She wasn't wrong.

"Squall, it's okay if that's what happened," Quistis said softly. "No one's judging you. We just want you well."

Above the door, the second hand of the clock ticked away tiny increments of Squall's life a fraction at a time. Each second a wasted opportunity for a life he never got the chance live.

"What do you think happened to her?" he asked. "Rinoa, I mean."

Not once in ten years did Squall dare ask this question out loud. He heard all the speculation, all the theories, but he never asked his friends what they thought.

Quistis stared at him for nearly a minute and Squall wished he kept it to himself.

They all knew, to some degree or other how Rinoa haunted him, but the mention of her was like standing on top of Garden waving a red flag.

They'd all loved her, but time erased who she was and what she looked like from their memories. Now, she was just a girl they knew years ago, a girl who became a Sorceress, a girl who died in the war.

Their forgetfulness was due in part to the use of GF's, and in part a consequence of time. All they knew of her now were the sketchy and sometimes fond memories of an otherwise difficult time in their lives.

Zell was the only one that hadn't forgotten. Upon their return from time compression, Zell eschewed the use of GF's in favor of remembering. He alone _wanted_ to remember her and once a year, on the anniversary of their return, which was now officially listed as the date of her death, Zell held a vigil in her honor at the beach in Balamb.

Everyone attended the first year, but after that it was just Zell and a bottle of whiskey. Every year, Zell sat all by himself in the sand and drank toast after toast to her memory. When no one showed the second year, Zell was upset, especially with Squall, who couldn't bring himself to participate. It hurt too much. The loss of her from his life crippled both his mind and his heart, and he just couldn't do it.

"I really don't know," Quistis said carefully. "I wish I had an answer."

Dr. Ben Gallagher entered the room, favored Quistis with a secret, soft smile before he came to stand beside Squall with a clinical stare.

It was odd to be looked at like this by a man Squall considered a friendly acquaintance. He was Quistis' soon-to-be husband, a man Squall only encountered outside the walls of the hospital. Now he looked at Squall as though he was a specimen under a microscope.

"I see you're back with us," Ben said. "It was touch and go there for a while."

"So I hear."

"Your vitals and latest tests look good," he said. "No brain damage, though the medication did do some liver damage, which we expected, but that should heal up in a day or two. Overall, I'd say you're going to make a full recovery."

Squall was relieved to hear it. He felt like shit, but that wouldn't last. He would recover physically, but emotionally he would continue to be a train wreck. There was no cure for that. Now, he just wanted out of here and to see Seth. The image of his son without a face was still with him, and that left him with a sense of paranoia and an irrational fear that something bad happened to the boy while he was asleep.

"I assume Quistis told you about the psychiatric hold?"

"Yeah. Sounds like a blast."

"Look at it as an opportunity to figure out what the real problem is. It's in your best interest to be honest and to cooperate during the evaluations," Ben said. "Keeping it to yourself will only be to your detriment."

"If I don't cooperate, they'll keep me longer," Squall said. "I know how this works."

"Please, Squall," Quistis said. "We're trying to help you."

"I know. Believe me, I don't want to be locked up any longer than I have to be," he said and gave the restraints on his wrists a little tug. "On that note, would you mind taking these off? I don't plan to go anywhere."

"Fine," Ben said. "But they go back on if you start having the dreams again."

Squall didn't bother to tell the doctor the dreams were inevitable. Like clockwork. He could count down the hours until the next as the second hand swept him ever closer to insanity.

* * *

On the way back from Capetown, the little village closest to the orphanage, Seifer watched Rinoa from the corner of his eye as he steered his truck down a narrow dirt road. Her bare feet were propped on the dash as she plowed her way through a pint of chocolate ice cream with delighted abandon. It reminded him of the way he'd eaten after he was released from prison – with a ravenous hunger for flavors long forgotten.

"You going to save some of that for me?" he asked.

"You know? I don't think I will," she said. "Ten years. No food. Your fault. Remember?"

He smiled at her sass and he recalled that long ago summer they spent together. That feisty air about her was one of the things that attracted him to her in the first place.

What the hell was he going to do with her now? Hide her away in the orphanage? It might have been ten years, but she was still seventeen, both in body and spirit. He was almost twenty-nine and had no business harboring a seventeen year-old Sorceress in his home, even if on paper she was twenty-seven.

When his phone rang, he fished it out of his pocket and eyeballed the number before he answered. Every now and then, some reporter got a hold of his private number and would call to ask stupid questions he didn't want to answer. He'd been forced to change his number three times already due to harassment.

It was a Balamb number he didn't recognize, but only one person called him from Balamb.

"Almasy," he said.

"S'up."

In the background, Seifer heard the sound of an overhead page and people talking.

"Where the hell are you calling from?"

"Hospital."

"Accidentally get your hair caught in the ceiling fan again?"

"Funny," Zell said without humor.

There was a pause.

"Leonhart tried to off himself yesterday," Zell said. "He's messed up, man. Really messed up."

That was a surprise. Like Seifer, Squall would rather suffer through it than quit. They may not been the best of friends, but Seifer appreciated the fight in his former rival. To know that the guy was messed up enough that he tried to kill himself was not welcome news.

Seifer glanced at Rinoa, who was still preoccupied with the pint of ice cream. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have in front of her for more than one reason. She'd already taken too many direct hits about the life she'd missed, and he didn't want to be the one to add more on top of it. He also didn't want to explain why Zell would call him when all she knew of their relationship was their former hostility.

"You're joking, right?"

"I wish I was," Zell said. "I'm the one that found him. He was barely breathing, laying there in a puddle of his own vomit. He almost fucking died in my arms, man."

There was too much grief in Zell's voice, and Seifer weighed the consequences of having this conversation with Rinoa present. The last thing he wanted was for her to ask questions, but for Zell's sake, Seifer chose to continue. He would just be very, very careful about what he said in response.

"That sucks. How did he do it?"

"Sleeping pills and vodka."

Seifer figured his former rival would be the sort to jump in front of a train or put a bullet in his head if he were so inclined end it. Something quick and absolute. Seifer knew this because it was what _he_ would have done, and he had more in common with Squall than most people might believe.

"Shit. How's he doing?"

"Well, he's going to live, but he may wind up in the nut house," Zell said. "You know what the really scary part is? When he was coming around, he kept screaming her name."

"Who?"

"Rinoa."

Alarmed, Seifer glanced at the young Sorceress beside him. Her attention was focused on the ice cream, but he couldn't be sure she wasn't listening in.

Seifer's gut twisted in suspicion. He could only think of one reason Squall might care after all this time. It was no secret the two grew fond of one another during the war, but only a lunatic would hang on to someone he'd only known a such a short time.

_Unless..._

"When did this happen? What time?"

"Well, I found him around seven, so maybe an hour or two before that?"

Seifer did the mental math. The time difference put Squall's attempt around the same time Rinoa showed up outside the orphanage. Was it possible Squall felt her come back and thought he'd gone crazy? It was too big a coincidence to deny the two things could be linked.

_Were you her Knight, Leonhart? You poor, sorry bastard..._

It was most likely explanation. Squall was bonded to someone presumed dead for ten years, and it was no wonder he'd gone off the deep end. If Ultimecia suddenly reappeared and got inside Seifer's head again, he would think he'd lost his mind, too.

"Hyne almighty," Seifer said.

"Yeah. My thoughts exactly."

_No, not exactly, my friend._

Seifer steered the truck around a deep pothole he almost forgot was there. The sudden swerve sent Rinoa crashing against the door. She cursed and glared at him as she righted herself in the seat.

"Would you mind watching the road?" she snapped.

"I told you to put on your seatbelt," he snapped back.

Then he cursed under his breath. He didn't want to even touch on the subject of Rinoa with Zell. Or vice versa. He didn't even know how he would explain either situation. He knew one thing, though. Zell would piss himself if he knew Rinoa was three feet away from him and very much alive.

"You got a girl with you?"

"Housekeeper," he lied. "Driving her back to town."

"Really. Since when do you have a housekeeper?"

His tone was suspicious and Seifer grinned at the phone.

"Since yesterday. Why, are you jealous?"

"Maybe. I don't know what you do when I'm not around."

Seifer chuckled. "You mean _who_, don't you?"

"Ugh, spare me," Zell said.

"She's a little young for my tastes," Seifer said as he glanced at Rinoa from the corner of his eye. "Don't worry. I'm being a good boy."

"You better be."

Rinoa was curious now, but pretending not to listen. Time to cut the conversation short, before he said something really incriminating.

"Listen," Seifer said. "I gotta go. Can I call you back in a bit?"

"Yeah. I need to check in with Liz anyway."

Seifer ended the call and pocketed his phone and glanced over at Rinoa again. She stared at him with a funny half-smile and her brown eyes sparkled with mischief and expectation. Seifer planned to lie like a dog.

"So?"

"What?"

"Who was that?"

"None of your business."

"Was that your girlfriend?" she asked and lifted an eyebrow. "Because it sounded like you were talking to a girl."

Seifer grinned and steered the truck into the driveway.

"Something like that."

"Details!" she said. "Who is she?"

He wasn't ready to have this conversation yet. He didn't care about her opinion on the matter, but the explanation was too long and complicated a tale and one she might not understand. Sometimes, Seifer didn't understand himself why it was Zell, or why Zell ever bothered to visit him in prison, or how dislike turned to understanding and friendship, or how that friendship turned physical. But it happened, and lust was lust, passion was passion, and there was a hell of a lot more to it than all that.

"I'm not discussing this with you," Seifer said.

"So, I'm the housekeeper," she said, amused. "Is she jealous?"

"Shut it."

He stopped the truck next to the house, put it in park and sat there for a moment, thinking about the implications of Squall being Rinoa's Knight.

If Rinoa coming back was the reason Squall tried on a toe-tag, that meant their bond fully functional and very powerful. And Squall would either figure it out, or it would send him to the nut hatch. From what Seifer remembered of his bond with Ultimecia, the longer that bond remained in place, the more aware they were of each other. He'd been able to hear her thoughts after a while, not just the thoughts she put in his head.

"Are we just going to hang out in the truck all night?" Rinoa asked. "You promised me bacon."

Seifer switched the engine off and got out without a word. He hauled the groceries out of the truck bed, carried them inside and started to put them away.

"There should be hot water now," he told Rinoa. "Grab a shower if you want. There's also a box of clothes in the hall if you want to dig through it. Most of it was Edea's so it'll probably fit better than my sweat pants."

"You don't need any help?"

"No. I got this," he said. "Do what you gotta do."

As soon as Seifer heard the shower come on, he went out back and called Zell.

"S'up."

"Calling you back," Seifer said. "Housekeeper wouldn't mind her own business."

"That's weird."

"She wanted to know all about my girlfriend," he said with a grin.

"Oh, geez. What did you tell her?"

"Short. Blonde. Athletic," Seifer said. "Stupid hair."

"Shut up," Zell said with a laugh. "Asshole."

"Shithead."

Seifer's smile dropped away and he turned to look at the beach below. Waves crashed against the shore as the tide came in, not as heavy as yesterday, but heavier than usual, leaving a line of debris in the sand.

"Sucks you had to deal with the whole Squall thing," he said. "I know that was probably pretty fucked up to walk into."

"You have no idea," Zell said. "I was literally five minutes from finding a corpse instead."

"Any idea why he did it?"

"Doc's saying maybe PTSD or anxiety or something like that," Zell said. "All I know is the guy doesn't sleep. Liz told me he used to stay up for days without sleeping, and apparently he still does. Could be he just finally cracked."

"Well, keep me posted," Seifer said.

If what Seifer believed was true, and Squall figured out that Rinoa was alive and back in the present, there was a chance he would show up at some point to look for her. Seifer wasn't sure how either of them would handle it, and he would be glad for a heads up.

"Yeah, will do," Zell said. "By the way, I've got some other news."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"I gave my notice," Zell said. "I've got one week left as a SeeD."

"You're kidding me. When did you decide this?"

"Last week. I don't want to do it anymore," he said. "I_ can't_ do it anymore."

"So, what are you going to do if you're not a SeeD?"

"Stay with Ma for a while, I guess," Zell said. "Been thinking about opening a Dojo in Balamb."

"Why don't you crash here till you figure it out?" Seifer asked without thinking.

"You want me to?"

They hadn't put any sort of label on their relationship yet and co-habitation was a really big step. Seifer wasn't sure if it was a good idea or not, but he was game to give it a shot. He could use the extra help on the house, and Zell enjoyed the work. Not to mention, the other benefits that would come along with it.

"Are you serious or are you just messing with me?" Zell asked when Seifer didn't answer. "You really want me to?"

"Don't make me say it, shithead."

"Make you say what?"

"Just think about it," Seifer said. "Get back to me."

As he hung up the phone, it dawned on him that he didn't consider Rinoa when he suggested it. He nearly called Zell back and told him he changed his mind, but he didn't know what Rinoa's plans were yet, if she'd even thought about it. Every time it came up, she cracked jokes about food and changed the subject. She asked no questions about the articles or pictures, or about her father or even Timber. If she was avoiding it, she needed to face it, the sooner the better.

Seifer wasn't adverse to her staying a while. He owed her a debt he'd never be able to repay, and he didn't mind the company, but her being here presented a few problems. First, he would have to tell her about Zell, and second, he would have to make absolutely certain Zell would not go and run his big mouth about her until she came up with a plan and was ready to let the world know she was alive.

He pocketed the phone, went inside and grabbed the vodka from the cabinet. This whole thing was a great, big mess that could blow up in his face at any second. And Hyne help it did.

* * *

After her shower, Rinoa dug through the box Seifer mentioned and found a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that would fit. She changed and towel-dried her hair and when she emerged from the bathroom, she was overwhelmed by the scent of cooked bacon. Her stomach rumbled and she smiled at the sight of Seifer at the stove, pushing something around in a frying pan with a wooden spoon. It was incongruous with her too-recent memory of the madman who tossed her to Adel like a bag of garbage.

But Rinoa reminded herself, it wasn't just days ago.

Time mellowed him. Whether that was from the years spent underground, or just maturity, a calmer, less cocky and hostile Seifer Almasy was a good thing. So far, anyway.

"That smells incredible."

"Sit."

When he joined her at the table, he dropped a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her and set the bottle of vodka between them.

"Eat, and then we need to talk."

Rinoa tried to ignore the ball of dread in her stomach, but she worried he would tell her to get lost. She didn't know if there was anywhere to go if he did. Going home to Deling City wasn't an option, in spite of, or maybe because of the memorial with her name on it in the back yard of her father's house. Balamb seemed like a bad idea, too. She was a Sorceress, for Hyne's sake. They wouldn't welcome her with open arms. If she'd been gone a year, maybe. But not ten, and under such mysterious circumstances.

They ate in silence. Seifer took swigs of vodka straight from the bottle from time to time but offered nothing in the way of conversation.

As she ate, she watched him and wondered about the phone call on the way home. He called her the _housekeeper_. He lied to the girl on the phone because she was here. Rinoa didn't want to impose or get in the way.

Seifer cleared the table when they were done and dumped the dishes in the sink without bothering to wash them. He grabbed the vodka and motioned for her to follow him outside. On the porch he dropped into a reclining lawn chair and leaned back to stare up at the sky. Rinoa perched on the wall across from him. She didn't want to look at the stars so she looked at him, still thrown by the maturity in his handsome face.

"So what happens now?" he asked.

"I haven't really thought about it," she admitted.

"You need to," Seifer said. "Time's not going to rewind itself. I know that sucks to hear, but you can't just avoid it."

"This isn't easy," she fired back. "I lost ten years, Seifer! How am I supposed to process and accept all that in twenty-four hours?"

Seifer swallowed a mouthful of vodka and passed the bottle her way.

The last time she indulged in alcohol, it was some god-awful gyshal hooch Watts was fond of. The memory of vomiting out the door of the train car after only a few swallows was not a pleasant one, so she refused.

"Have a drink, Rin," Seifer said. "If anyone ever had a damned good reason to get trashed, it's you."

She accepted the offered bottle, swallowed a mouthful and screwed up her face as it burned her tongue and throat.

"This is _awful_."

"Nobody drinks it for the taste," he said.

He took the bottle back and stared up at the sky again.

"I take it you want me to leave," she said softly.

"I didn't say anything about you leaving, did I?" he said. "That's not what I'm getting at."

"Then what are you saying?"

"Stop avoiding it," he said. "Start asking questions. Talk about it. Figure out what the fuck you're going to do."

"I don't want to talk about it. I'm dead, remember? Dead people don't talk!" she shouted. She sounded hysterical to her own ears and paused to take a long, slow breath to calm down. "I don't exist anymore. Rinoa Heartilly is dead, so what's the point?"

Seifer got up and sat beside her on the wall and straddled it so that he faced her. He pressed the bottle into her hand and this time she took a long swallow. It still burned going down but she helped herself to a second swallow and thrust the bottle at him. With the back of her hand, she wiped her mouth. If this was supposed to help, it didn't. It only weighed her down more.

She wasn't ready for this. She didn't want to make decisions about a life that she never even lived. How did one start over after a ten year absence? How was she supposed to come back from the dead? All of her friends had moved on without her. They had lives and kids and the boy she loved was now a man with a wife and child.

"Rinoa, I know you didn't ask for any of this, but you're going to have to deal with it," he said.

"How do you expect me to deal with this? Throw a party? Get drunk and bawl my eyes out?" she asked. "What am I supposed to do?"

Hot, angry tears rolled down her cheeks and she wished she could just go back. Maybe, if she went back she would be able to find the right time so that she wouldn't miss out on anything. That was impossible, but it didn't change her desire to turn back the clock for a do-over.

"If it helps," he said and handed her the bottle again. "I'll hold your hair while you puke later."

She laughed through her tears and drank. Seifer held out his arms, inviting her to take what comfort he could offer. She allowed herself to accept, and took it for what it was. Just a hug from an old friend.

She should be terrified and repulsed, but she wasn't. This was the Seifer she knew - the boy she'd known before the war, the one that charmed her, colluded with her on the demise of Vinzer Deling and the Galbadian Empire, and helped her deface Galbadian propaganda posters with spray paint.

"You know, all I could think about was getting out of that hell so I could be with them," she said. "I thought, as long as I got out, everything would be fine. It never occurred to me that there was the possibility of getting so lost everyone would forget me. It never even crossed my mind, but the whole time, I could feel him waiting for me."

Seifer let her go and took a measured swallow from the bottle, regarding her shrewdly as he set the drink aside.

"Can I ask you something?"

Rinoa shrugged. "Sure."

"Did he pledge to be your Knight?"

"Not out loud," she said. "But we had this conversation outside, by the pillars, and... afterwards, it was like there was some sixth sense that wasn't there before. Like, I had Squall Radar." She laughed sadly and pushed her bangs out of her eyes. "Not in the sense that I could read his mind or anything, but I always knew where he was and when he was close by and when he was hurt worse than he let on."

Squall never said the words out loud, but it didn't make a difference. One minute, the connection wasn't there, and the next, it was. He pledged, she accepted, without ever realizing it was no lark – it was for real.

"Is he still waiting?" Seifer asked.

His tone was strange, though Rinoa couldn't discern exactly what was strange about it.

Did she still feel Squall waiting?

No. Not waiting. Something else.

It was only a vague impression, but she closed her eyes and reached out, searching for him and sensed confusion, followed by absolute panic.

_For the love of Hyne, just leave me alone. You're making me crazy._

Were those words meant for her? Or someone else entirely?

Then it was gone and she felt nothing at all.

* * *

When Squall woke it was late and Liz occupied the same chair where Quistis sat before her, wearing the same expression of pity. Squall hated it just as much on her as he hated it on Quistis. Except, on Liz, it made him feel incredibly guilty, too.

"How are you feeling?"

Stupid and confused and angry. Lost and broken and ridiculous.

Over the door, the clock ticked. He didn't want to waste another opportunity. He owed her an apology, one he never bothered to give, even though she deserved it.

"I'm sorry Liz. I'm sorry I wasn't a better husband."

She swallowed hard and lifted a hand to her eyes to brush away the bangs that had fallen limp overnight.

"That's not what this was about, is it?" she asked.

"No."

She moved her chair closer to the bed and slipped her hand into his. After everything, she still tried to reach him and Squall didn't deserve it.

"Would you talk to me?" she asked softly. "Because I want to understand. Did I let you down by leaving?"

"Why would you think that?"

"I left because I was jealous," she said with a guilty shrug. "I wasn't thinking about you and what you needed. I was thinking about myself."

"This isn't your fault," he said.

"Then what is it? What happened?"

"It's still _her_, Liz," Squall said. "She's killing me. I don't know how she's doing it, but I still feel her. She still owns me. I don't know how, but she does."

Liz let go of his hand and turned her eyes to the floor. If Squall could take all those words back, he would have. After all, the ghost that haunted him haunted her, too.

"Does that hurt you to hear?"

"Yes," Liz said in a small voice.

"Am I crazy?" he said. "Do you think this is all in my head?"

"I don't know," she said. "But I do know I can't stand to watch you suffer."

He settled back against the pillows and looked at the clock above the door. Time still moved forward, all the lost seconds of his life like tick marks on a prison wall. Each one spirited him further and further away from the life he was meant to live.

"I do love you Liz. Maybe not the way you deserve, but I do, and I hope you know that," he said.

"I love you, too," she whispered.

It had to count for something that Liz was still here, that she never turned her back entirely. Not for the first time, Squall wished he could return her feelings and be the kind of husband she deserved. Squall wasn't that man, but he wanted to be.

"Can I see Seth?" he asked.

"I don't think that's such a good idea right now."

"Please Liz," he said. "Don't fight me on this."

"Okay," she said softly, "but just for a little while."

She got up and went to the door, leaving Squall alone with the beep of machines and the steady _tick-tick-tick_ of the clock. It was like a count down, as though he lived inside of a ticking time bomb. If he listened closely, he could hear the drip of the bathroom sink and the echo of Rinoa's voice in the room with him.

_I don't want to talk about it! I'm dead, remember? Dead people don't talk!_

Her shouted words cut into him like a dull blade. He sat up and clutched at the rail to ground himself in reality.

She wasn't here. She wasn't here, but he felt her, felt the thrum of a heartbeat that wasn't his own and in words he didn't remember her ever speaking.

He wiped a hand through his hair only to clench a handful in his fist.

"Rinoa?" he whispered. "Are you here?"

_How do you expect me to deal with this? Throw a party? Get drunk and bawl my eyes out?_

Her voice was so close. So clear. Like she was right there in the room with him. He couldn't breathe. He pressed a hand to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut against the sting of pain that wasn't his.

He was losing it. Really, and truly losing it. He needed to get it together. He needed to shut her out, he just didn't know how to.

"Please leave me alone. For the love of Hyne, just leave me alone," he breathed. "You're making me crazy."

He took a few deep breaths and focused on the door. He had to keep it together for Seth. He couldn't let his son see him freak out or act like a lunatic.

Thoughts of his boy calmed him, and he pictured Seth's serious blue eyes and his slow, cautious smile, and the sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of his nose and that was all he needed to bring him back from the edge.

Liz returned a moment later with the boy, who flew across the room and climbed up over the bedrail and into the bed. His scrawny little arms went around Squall's neck and gave Squall the first bit of genuine comfort he'd experienced in over a week.

Squall pulled the boy into his side and held on tight. He caught the scent of Seth's favorite banana shampoo and the smell of leather from the boy's jacket as he fit himself against Squall's shoulder.

"Hey there, buddy," he breathed into Seth's hair. "I missed you."

"Daddy, why are you in the hospital?"

"Daddy had a little accident," Squall said. "I'll be okay."

"Did you hurt yourself?"

"Something like that," Squall said.

"I'm going to go grab a cup of coffee," Liz said.

"Mom, can I stay with daddy?" Seth asked.

"For a little while. It's way past your bedtime, kiddo," Liz said. "We can't stay too much longer."

She headed for the door. As she opened it, Squall called out to her.

"Hey Liz?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

She nodded, tears in her eyes as she stepped into the hall and closed the door.

Seth scooted up and put his head on the pillow next to Squall so that they were face to face. A powerful surge of unconditional love for his son overwhelmed him. The boy reminded him so much of himself that he might as well be looking into a mirror. This kid had become his everything. His entire world. He had to keep it together, if only for Seth's sake.

"I had a bad dream, daddy," Seth whispered.

Squall brushed the unruly strands of hair from Seth's eyes and refused to think about his own dreams.

"It was just a dream, kiddo," Squall said. "Dreams aren't real."

Squall wondered who he was trying to convince. Seth, or himself?

"This one was," Seth said. "I was in this really scary place, and the clouds were all dark and moving funny and stuff, and there was this pretty girl with wings and I was trying to show her how to get home. I think it happened this time and she found the place she was supposed to go, and then I found you, but your face was all gray and you wouldn't wake up. It was so scary and I thought you were gone forever."

"I'm right here, kiddo. I'm not going anywhere. Promise."

"Pinkie swear?" Seth asked.

"Pinkie swear," Squall said with a smile.

But on the inside, Squall was screaming. Seth had just described Time Compression, with similar elements to Squall's dream, save the pretty girl with wings. He only knew of one person who fit that description, though what it meant or how Seth could know about her, Squall didn't know.

"She was lost and she was looking for you, too," Seth said. "I think she just wanted to go home. So I helped her and she found this place with a lot of flowers and this neat old house."

Squall's heartbeat raced wildly ahead of each soft click of the second hand of the clock above the door. This wasn't the way Seth normally spoke, not with so many words or so fast, though his vocabulary was impressive for a kid his age. He was more like Squall – conservative and reserved and Squall got a chill he didn't understand.

Seth laid his little hand against Squall's cheek and stared back at him with the eyes of an wizened old man who'd seen too much horror, his face so close to Squall's that the tips of their noses touched. So close, Squall could have counted every individual freckle on Seth's cheeks.

"Don't be sad, daddy," Seth whispered. "I think Rinoa found her way home."

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

-Boom-


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

* * *

Over the course of the next three days, Squall Leonhart lied through his teeth. He spoke to three different shrinks and they all asked him the same questions over and over again. It was all a rehash of what had come before and Squall didn't want to talk about it anymore. What Squall needed was peace of mind, some pill or drug or magic trick to erase everything prior to their return from Time Compression.

They asked for details of that experience, something Squall couldn't even begin to put into words. It wasn't just Time Compression or the war. It wasn't just Rinoa. It was everything.

Squall hadn't been aware how much he resented Garden, SeeD and his responsibilities until now. Since the age of seventeen, that burden weighed on his shoulders so heavily he now believed the stress caused him to crack. Whatever was going on inside his head was due in part to his sense of duty to an organization that thought it was okay to put a weapon in his hands at the age of ten and train him to kill.

So, he lied and glossed over the hard questions with predictable, practical and sane answers. He told them what they wanted to hear, and nothing more. He didn't mention the hallucinations, or that he still heard her voice, or that the sound of things ticking drove him batshit crazy.

As he sat in the shrink's office, the clock behind him _tick-tick-ticked_ and the blinds on the window tapped a rhythm against the frame every time the air conditioner cut on.

Squall would have lied about the nightmares, too, but if they already knew. He said as little as possible and never mentioned Rinoa was always in them.

"Tell me about the Sorceress you were involved with during the war," Dr. Channing said.

Channing was a kind eyed older woman, but Squall didn't trust her. SeeD-affiliated and required to report back to the board, Squall measured every word he said to her. They already asked about Rinoa and there was nothing left to say.

"What about her?"

"You called out her name when you were in the hospital."

"I called out my son's name, too."

"Did you love Rinoa Heartilly?"

"Yes."

No point in lying. They already knew the truth.

"Do you still love her?"

"She's been gone ten years. What do you think?"

His hands shook at the mere mention of her name. Seth said she found her way home, and Squall couldn't think about that without going to pieces. Where Seth heard her name, Squall didn't know, and he was too petrified to ask.

"I think you're afraid to answer the question."

"I'm not afraid," he said. "It just isn't relevant."

"I'd say it is," Dr. Channing said. "There's a reason you called out her name and not the name of your wife or one of your friends."

"Liz is my ex-wife, my friends aren't close anymore, and if there's a reason, I don't know it," he said.

"I think you do, and you're just not willing to admit it. Why is she still so important to you?"

His only option was to lie. Anything to get out of here, anything to keep them from knowing she still had a hold on him, that he still belonged to her.

"I feel guilty that she didn't make it back."

Not exactly a lie, a half-truth, but not the real answer.

"Interesting," Dr. Channing said. "Even though you knew going into it that some of you might not make it back, you feel guilty?"

"Who wouldn't?" he asked. "She was a seventeen-year-old girl."

A seventeen-year-old girl Squall selfishly dragged along for the ride because he couldn't let her go. He allowed her to pretend to be a SeeD, heedless of the danger or consequences, and it was his fault she was dead.

But she had been essential to their cause, an important member of the team. If not for her, none of them would have made it back alive. Her magic kept their hearts beating.

"You do understand that in order for these nightmares to stop, you're going to have to get past that guilt," Dr. Channing said.

"And how do I do that?"

"Well, now that's not something I can answer in a single session. My recommendation for now is bi-weekly therapy sessions and perhaps some anti-anxiety medication to help you work through it," she said. "Normally, I'd suggest something to help you sleep, but under the circumstances, I don't think that's a good idea."

_Because you tried to kill yourself._

She didn't say it, but Squall read between the lines.

"Pending a discussion with the board about your results, I'm also going to recommend a thirty day leave of absence," she said. "It will give you some time to recuperate and rest."

"I don't need any rest," he said. "I just need to go back to work and move on."

"That's for myself and the board to decide."

"Can I go?" he asked.

"You may," she said. "I'll get you in touch with a therapist in a few days."

An armed guard waited outside the office to escort him back to his room, where the clock on the wall was _not_ ticking because he'd removed the batteries when no one was looking.

* * *

Laguna Loire waited in the hospital lobby for Squall to be discharged. Beside him, Seth hooked one finger through Laguna's belt loop and shoved the other deep into the pocket of his jacket. It was too warm for the jacket, but Seth insisted. Laguna, being the indulgent grandfather he was, chose not to fight that fight. Let the kid wear what he liked.

Seth's face lit up when Squall emerged from patient check-out in a wheelchair pushed by a burly, mean-faced orderly. Squall scowled, but he broke into a smile when he spied Seth. He cast Laguna a cursory, cool glance and returned his gaze to the excited boy at Laguna's side.

Seth let go of Laguna's belt loop and flung himself into his father's lap. Laguna stood there awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck.

Maybe this hadn't been such a great idea. Laguna was well aware of how Squall felt about him. It was a fool's hope he would change his mind.

"Laguna," Squall said politely.

"Hiya, son."

"We're here to set you free, dad!" Seth said. "We're busting you out of this joint!"

Squall chuckled and mussed up Seth's hair.

"Did your grandfather teach you that?" he asked.

"Yup!" Seth said. "And some other stuff too but I don't remember."

Laguna wasn't sure what to say to his son now that he was awake. He poured his heart out at Squall's bedside while he was unconscious, but now that he was awake, there were no words that seemed appropriate.

"We're going to lunch with grandpa, and then the park," Seth said. "But I don't think you can take the wheelchair to the park, dad."

"It's just till we get to the car, kiddo. I can walk," Squall said.

Laguna took over wheelchair duty as Squall seethed. He pushed it through the door and out into the lot, Squall's silent loathing coming at him in waves. No doubt, this was humiliating for Squall, and Laguna was probably the last person on earth he wanted to see.

Liz was originally supposed to pick Squall up, but Laguna asked to do it so he and Squall could have some private time to talk. She agreed it would be to Seth and Squall's benefit to spend more time together. Even after all this time, Squall resisted Laguna's every attempt to know him better.

"Okay, buddy," Squall said to Seth. "Up, so I can get out of this thing."

Seth climbed down and hugged Laguna's leg while Squall got out of the chair. Laguna smiled down at his grandson and wished there was some way to undo all the years of estrangement. Squall inherited his mother's stubbornness, but none of her warmth, and Laguna blamed Squall's upbringing for killing the part of him that was capable of it. Seventeen was too young to deal with the burden of command, and this was the cost.

They ate lunch at a restaurant near the park in the city square, and a cold, uncomfortable silence settled in as Squall picked at a plate of Balamb fish. He pushed pieces of food around the plate, his haunted eyes fixed on his fork but Laguna never saw him take a bite.

Laguna planned to open up a dialogue with his son, but Squall's reticence shot that plan to hell. If Laguna said a word, Squall would get up and walk out, and Laguna preferred a meal spent in total silence to a party of one.

As they waited for the check, Seth took both of their hands and said in a very stern and serious voice:

"You two should try to get along better. Not talking to each other isn't nice."

Laguna met Squall's eyes across the table, both of them stunned. Seth's awareness of the rift between them blew Laguna away and left a strange, guilty ache in his gut. The boy was almost five, but possessed an uncanny ability to read between the lines. Sometimes, Laguna wondered if the kid wasn't an old man trapped in an almost five-year-old's body.

"You're right, kiddo," Squall finally said. "It isn't."

"I want you to be friends," Seth said. "Can we go to the park now? I'll play and you two talk."

Laguna insisted on getting the check, but it pissed Squall off. Still, he paid the bill, and they left in silence, Squall quietly seething as they walked out the door.

The park was across the street from the restaurant, overlooking Balamb Harbor. A salty, fresh breeze blew in from the ocean and Laguna took a moment to appreciate it. He stared out at the turquoise waters and the cerulean sky as Seth ran off toward the swings, leaving him alone with Squall.

"I bought a house up the road from here," Laguna said after an eternity of silence. "I sign the paperwork tomorrow."

"What?" Squall asked.

"I've missed out on too much of your life, and Seth's life," Laguna said. "I know it's too late to be your dad, but I want to be a grandfather to Seth."

Squall sat on a bench with a good view of the playground and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Do I get a say in this?" Squall asked.

"It's a done deal," Laguna said. "I want to be here with my family."

Squall's eyes followed Seth as he struggled to get the swing going, pushing off the ground with his feet.

"Whatever you need son, just ask."

"I don't need anything from you," Squall said. "And you can't expect to just throw money and things at me like that's going to make up for it."

"That's not what I meant," Laguna said quietly. "I just want to be there for you."

"Why now, Laguna?" Squall asked. "Why not twenty seven years ago, when your wife was dying and you were off helping other people and looking for a kid that wasn't yours?"

"I love Ellone the same way you love Seth," Laguna said, angry. "Don't tell me you wouldn't go to the ends of the earth to save him."

"And what about me?"

"Had I known about you, I would have done the same damn thing."

"Ellone must have told you at some point," Squall said.

"She told me a week before I met you," Laguna said. "By the time I was free to go back to your mother, it was already too late. If I'd known about you, I would have gone back for you. I know none of this is what you want to hear from me, but it's the truth. I made mistakes and I'm sorry for that, but Squall, can you please at least try? For Seth's sake? Please?"

This was the most Laguna had ever said to his son's face. Over the years, he tried to communicate every chance he got, only to be shut out and shut down every time.

"Fine," Squall said. "But only because he really likes you for some reason."

"He's a great kid, Squall," Laguna said seriously. "And you're a great father. In spite of my mistakes."

"Yeah, well, I never wanted him to feel the way I did when I was a kid."

That statement was like a shot straight through the heart.

* * *

Seifer spent his afternoon re-wiring the kitchen and rehearsing the conversation he was about to have with Rinoa. She didn't know about Zell's impending visit, but she deserved a chance to decide for herself what she was going to do. She avoided the subject of plans when it came up, but for the last few evenings, she sat in an overstuffed arm chair in the living room, reading a thick volume chronicling the war and its aftermath.

He flipped the breaker back on and turned on the kitchen light, then the stove. The lights didn't flicker and for once, he was grateful for the time spent in prison. The last four years of his incarceration, he was assigned to the maintenance department and learned about plumbing, wiring, carpentry and masonry work, which turned out to his benefit in rebuilding the house.

"We have lights!" he called out to Rinoa.

She was outside, applying sealant to the wooden back porch. Seifer hadn't expected her to help out, but she pitched in and got her hands dirty. For two days, she sanded the weathered wood all by herself, leaving Seifer to wonder if it was an attempt to distract herself from reality or a means to work through her loss.

"Thank Hyne!" she called back. "I call dibs on the first shower!"

Seifer stripped off his gloves and stepped outside to check her progress.

"Almost done," she said. "Watch your step. It's still drying on this half."

"Not bad," he said.

The wood of the porch had been a battered silvery gray before, but with the sand and seal, it was now a dark, knotty blonde with a smooth finish. Seifer never figured Rinoa would do such a good job on her own, given she didn't even know how to work a washing machine. Then again, the Rinoa he remembered could do anything when she put her mind to it.

"Why don't you knock off for the day and finish that in the morning?"

"I'd rather just get it done," she said. "Unless you need something."

"Something I want to talk to you about, but I guess it can wait," he said. "I'll help you finish up."

Twenty minutes later, the job was done, and they stood back to survey the work. Smug and satisfied, Rinoa crossed her arms over her chest and nudged him with an elbow. He returned the gesture with a rough pat on the shoulder and went inside to grab a six pack from the fridge.

"Let's take a walk," he said as he stepped back outside.

She followed him down to the beach, the flannel shirt she wore over her tank top flapping in the stiff wind. It was one of Cid's, and too big, but on her, it was cute. But, Hyne almighty, she was young, a fact that slapped him in the face every time he really looked at her.

On the beach, she kicked off her boots and walked along the tide line, the water ankle deep, and sifted through the debris with her toe in search of interesting flotsam. Seifer stayed back and watched as he cracked open a beer and took a measured swallow.

"So what did you want to talk about?" she asked when she re-joined him.

"I have someone coming to stay tomorrow," he said and offered her a beer.

"Girlfriend?"

As funny as it would be to call Zell his girlfriend, now wasn't the time.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No."

"So just tell her I'm the housekeeper."

"I would, but it isn't that simple," he said. "It's someone you know."

She froze and stared at him with a deep curiosity.

"Who? Quistis?"

"Why would you think that?"

"I don't know. Sort of thought you two would make a good match, you know, once you stopped trying to kill us and all."

There was no denying Quistis was gorgeous, smart and hot, and perhaps Seifer allowed himself a fantasy or two about her as a teen, but she was ice cold and completely uninterested in anything but taking him down a peg or two. And her sanctimonious and superior attitude had been violently unattractive at the time. Perhaps, under different circumstances, it would have been fun to explore, but the opportunity never showed.

"Wrong."

"Who, then?"

"Zell."

Rinoa started, bewildered, and Seifer knew what she was thinking. Zell was the last person on the planet the Seifer she'd known would have as a house guest. All she knew of their past relationship was hostility, and most of what she knew was one-sided.

She took a swallow of her beer and looked at him, curious.

"So, what? You're friends now?"

There was no easy way to say it, so he said it.

"It's more than that."

Her eyes widened.

"You. And Zell."

Seifer nodded and stared back, unflinching.

"Really?"

"Really."

She started to giggle and sat down in the sand. Giggling turned to laughter, then to tears. She let out a half sob before got herself back under control. He wasn't sure why she'd gone from giggles to sobbing in the space of thirty seconds, and he wasn't inclined to try and figure it out.

"Just when I think I've gotten a handle on all the things I missed, you knock my feet out from under me again," she said, wiping her eyes.

He sat beside her and stared out at the blue gray surf churning against the rocky cliffs.

"You and Zell," she said again, shaking her head. "Boy, I really fell down the rabbit hole, didn't I? I always kind of knew about Zell, but…"

"But what?" Seifer asked.

"I didn't know about you."

"I don't really have a preference. Never really did, to be honest with you."

She was quiet for a moment, shifting her feet in the sand.

"Is it serious between you two?" she asked.

"It's complicated."

"Does he know…about me?"

"Not yet. I wanted to leave that up to you," he said. "If you'd rather not see him, we can figure something out. But if you do, this has to be done carefully."

"Why?"

"You're a Sorceress," he said. "The only thing the world hates more than me is _you_. If it gets out that you've suddenly reappeared, it could be really dangerous for you. Especially if you're here with me. And I'm not a hundred percent sure I can trust Zell not to open his big freaking mouth about it. So, if you want to see him, you need to be prepared to take that risk."

Her mirth over the Zell situation evaporated and it was obvious she hadn't even considered the Sorceress part yet. He watched it sink in as she sipped her beer and stared out at the ocean.

"I really, _really_ want to see him," she said. "But if I'm interrupting your plans-"

"Don't worry about that," Seifer said. "No big deal."

Rinoa's worried look melted into a slow grin.

"Why the hell are you looking at me like that?" he asked.

"You really like him, don't you?"

"I don't dislike him."

"You really like him!"

"Okay, stop."

"Aww, that's so cute, Seifer."

"Stop."

"Okay, fine. Meany."

He slipped an arm around her shoulders and shifted her against his side. It wouldn't have mattered much if she freaked out over it, but Seifer appreciated how easily she accepted it. It would make this less messy, so long as Zell could keep his mouth shut.

"So, how did you get together?" Rinoa asked. "I mean, you guys really hated each other, didn't you?"

It was a long story, to say the least. Technically, they'd been hanging out since Seifer's release from prison, but the emotional element had been there longer than that. Years longer.

It wasn't something he talked about, not even with Zell, and bringing it up now felt strange.

"If I'm going to tell this story, I'm going to need another beer."

He twisted the cap off a fresh bottle and took a long swallow. Finding the words for this was harder than he'd thought. The things he'd rehearsed now seemed inadequate and trite.

"The only people who visited me in prison were Matron, Quistis and Zell," he began.

"What about Raijin and Fujin?" she interrupted. "You guys were pretty tight, weren't you?"

"Well, they went to prison for their part in the whole thing, just like I did," Seifer said. "Fujin's still serving time. She was only supposed to do five years, but she wound up with an extra ten for stabbing another inmate and a guard over a fucking cup of pudding. And Rai… He was killed in a car accident not too long after he got out."

Seifer didn't like to think about his Posse. A pudding cup wasn't worth an extra ten years in his book, and Raijin's death… Well, that wrecked Seifer for a while.

"I'm sorry," Rinoa said.

"I'm over it. Mostly," Seifer said. "Anyway, Quistis came a few times the first year. Never been sure why because she never had much to say to me, and I sure as hell had nothing to say to her. Matron came until she got sick. After that, she wrote letters. But Zell came every two weeks, for nine years. _All nine years_, Rin, and he never missed a visit except when he was on a mission, which only happened twice."

"Why?" she asked. "I didn't think he would care."

"Well, at first it was just to scream at me," Seifer said with a grin. "Got himself thrown out a couple of times for mouthing off to the guards when they told him to keep it down. I'd sit there and laugh while they tried to wrestle his ass out the door, which only pissed him off more. Half the time I said shit just to set him off."

"That's really mean, Seifer," Rinoa said.

"Yeah, well, I knew there was a reason he kept coming. No one travels eight hours to see someone for half an hour without reason. Especially not someone they hate," Seifer said. "It took me a while to figure out he just wanted to understand why I did what I did. So after a while, it started to be about that."

It took Seifer almost three years to tell Zell his side of the story, in thirty minute increments, every two weeks. Zell hadn't exactly been understanding, and he hadn't understood it all, but he listened, no matter how bitter and angry Seifer became in the telling. He listened through rants that had nothing to do with Ultimecia and days where Seifer just didn't feel like talking about it at all.

Ultimecia left Seifer completely shattered on the inside, his mind busted and his sanity hanging on by a thread. He couldn't feel any sort of emotion for the longest time, leaving him in a wasteland of indifference. When it finally did come back, the nightmares and the guilt consumed him, eating away at him until nothing remained of the cocky boy he'd been.

He thought a lot about suicide the first two years, but he never had the chance or motivation to do it. After that, he resigned himself to his new life as a prisoner, his fire damped down to a smoldering ember.

There was a routine to his days underground, and after a while, he started to rely on Zell's visits. He showed up like clockwork, every other Saturday, without fail. Sometimes, Zell put money in Seifer's canteen or brought books – all random selections from the Deling City train station, but they provided a distraction from the gray monotony of Seifer's days.

"Why the fuck do you keep showing up here, Dincht?" he asked one day.

"Anyone else visiting you these days?"

Matron was too sick to travel anymore, and Quistis gave up on him a long time ago. No one else bothered.

"You're the only one stupid enough to come here."

"Well, I guess it's because, if it were me in there, I'd want someone to come see me," Zell said. "Anyone is better than no one at all, right?"

"That's so freaking sweet, I think I'm going to vomit."

"Yeah? Go ahead," Zell said. "If you don't want me here, all you have to do is tell them you don't want to see me."

Seifer considered it. He almost asked them to take Dincht off the list so he'd never have to see him again, but Zell was right. Someone was better than no one.

Zell became Seifer's only link to the outside. He was Seifer's confessional, whether to complain about how the guards were worse than the other prisoners, or recount his cell mate's nocturnal rantings, Zell was there to listen. Seifer didn't pretend to understand what it was that drove Zell to show up, just as he didn't pretend to understand why it mattered.

But it did. It mattered, and Zell's visits became the only thing Seifer had to look forward to.

Then, there was a Saturday when Zell showed up, mildly intoxicated, disheveled and battered, and it was Seifer's turn to pay attention.

"It's my twenty fifth birthday, man," Zell said. "And I'm sitting here, in a prison talking to your dumb ass. What the fuck is wrong with me?"

"I didn't force you to come."

"Why do I even bother?"

"You tell me, shithead," Seifer said. "I've been trying to figure that out for years."

On Zell's cheek was a cut that was still healing. Fresh, from the looks of it, and dark, purple bruise ringed his left eye.

"I'm so tired of living a lie," Zell said out of the blue. "All I see when I look in the mirror is a guy who's too much of a chicken shit to admit who he really is, even to himself."

"The hell are you on about?"

"You're not the only one who lives with guilt, Almasy. I kill things and _people_ for a living. I'm no fucking better than you are, yet you're the one sitting behind glass right now. How's that for irony, huh?"

Startled by Zell's bitterness, Seifer didn't know how to respond. He just stared at Zell through the glass, unable to name the emotion in Zell's baby blue eyes. It wasn't rage, or sadness or guilt, but whatever it was, it was raw and pure and shockingly honest. For the first time, Seifer felt like he understood Zell, if not his reasons for being there.

They sat like that for nearly a full minute, staring at one another. Then, Zell hung up the phone without another word and walked out. Seifer didn't expect him to come back after that, but he showed up, two weeks later, as much a slave to routine as Seifer.

"You wanna explain what you were talking about last time?" Seifer asked.

Zell put a hand to his forehead and stared down at the desk.

"Let's just say I'm having a bit of an identity crisis."

"In what way?"

"I don't feel like talking about it."

"So I'm supposed to lay all my shit bare, but you're allowed to keep it to yourself?" Seifer asked. "I don't think so."

"What do you care?" Zell asked without enthusiasm.

"I don't, but you're here, so open your fucking mouth and say it. Or leave. I don't give a shit what you do."

Seifer thought Zell was going to walk out again, but he just sat there with his eyes fixed on something too far away for Seifer to see.

"Dincht, you're not doing yourself any favors just sitting there."

"I can't say it out loud."

"What, are you trying to tell me you're gay or something?" Seifer said flippantly. "I already knew that."

Zell dropped the phone onto the desk, pressed a hand over his eyes and started to sob.

Seifer intended it as a joke, but that was exactly what Zell meant, and Seifer felt like a total ass. Seifer's joke was Zell's reality. He knocked on the glass again and yelled at Zell to pick the phone back up. Zell kept his eyes covered with his hand, but he picked the phone up and held it loosely against his ear.

"Stop bawling," Seifer said. "It's not worth crying over."

He heard Zell's harsh sniffle on the other end.

"It's not a big deal, stupid," Seifer said.

"Why the hell do I feel so bad about it?"

"Someone giving you a problem?"

"No," Zell said. "Just, everyone expects me to be a certain way, and to want certain things, and I don't."

"Aw, fuck that," Seifer said. "You live your life the way you want to, stupid. You don't have to answer to anybody or live up to whatever bullshit socially acceptable convention they wanna shove down your throat."

"I've never told anybody," Zell said.

"Is that supposed to make me feel special?"

"I fucking hate you, Almasy."

"Yeah. I'm not your biggest fan either, so we're even."

Zell wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

"I don't even know what I'm supposed to do about it."

"You could always go rob a liquor store and land your ass in prison," Seifer said, suggestively raising an eyebrow. "You could be my cell mate. Wouldn't that be fun?"

"You're such an asshole," Zell said, but he smiled.

"Yeah, but for some reason, you keep coming back, Dincht."

After that, their visits felt different. The subject never came up again, but there was an undercurrent of something running through their conversations that wasn't there before. It wasn't exactly friendship, but no one on the planet knew Seifer as well as Zell did. Seifer didn't want to attach too much meaning to that, but it started to feel important. He didn't have anyone else.

It was Zell who picked Seifer up the day he was released from prison. Nobody else would have bothered, but there he was, waiting with a bottle of whiskey and a deck of cards. Zell rented a hotel room in Deling City, and they spent most of their time there, drinking, playing triad and they passed out fully clothed on their respective beds.

Zell visited Seifer in Centra and they spent a long weekend reconstructing a crumbled wall in the back of the house. They drank, they played video games, and talked about all the things they didn't have time for when Seifer was still locked up. And when Zell left, Seifer missed his company.

During Zell's second visit, they tore apart a rotten wall in the back bathroom. The walls were infested with spiders, and there must have been thousands of them. As Zell knocked a hole in the shower wall with a sledgehammer, dozens of them poured out and crawled the walls and up the legs of their pants.

"Dude, I think there's one in my hair!" Zell half-shrieked, roughing up his spiky bangs. "Freaking. Hate. Spiders!"

Seifer brushed one off his own sleeve and peered at Zell's head. There was no spider, but Seifer mussed Zell's bangs, just to be sure.

"It's all good, crybaby," Seifer said. "They're probably turned off by all that hair gel anyway."

Zell leaned against the wall and ran his hands through his hair again, shuddering.

"Stupid, hairy, webby, eight-legged vermin freaks," he chanted through clenched teeth, prompting a laugh from Seifer. "I'm taking a blowtorch to the next one I see."

"The big bad spider's not going to get you Dincht," Seifer said. "Relax."

Seifer would never know what compelled him to do it, or why the sullen pout on Zell's face was so attractive, but he stepped forward, angled his head down and pressed his lips to Zell's.

It was barely a kiss. Seifer only lingered a split second too long to consider it a peck, but it was long enough to confirm Seifer's suspicion there was more to this than he thought.

When he pulled back, Zell's eyes were wide with shock, but Seifer saw something blazing hot in them before it was shut down by a terror so absolute, Seifer backed off.

As Seifer stepped away, he very casually asked, "You want a beer?"

"What?"

"Beer. Do you want one?"

"Uh, yeah. "

Seifer grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and returned to find Zell on the floor with his back to the wall. There was something about Zell's vulnerability Seifer found irresistible, but he didn't act on it. Instead, he suggested they knock off for the day.

They spent the evening drinking beer and playing video games in a cold, wordless silence. Seifer would have needed a chainsaw to cut the tension between them and he wondered if he made a fatal error in judgment. Much later in the evening, Seifer got up to get another round and when he returned, Zell lay on the couch, his attention focused on the TV, his face stony and distant.

"What the hell was that earlier?" Zell asked.

"Why? Did it freak you out?"

"Well, I sure as hell didn't expect it," Zell said. "I mean it's not like…"

"Like what?"

"I just really hadn't thought about it. I mean, what were you doing, trying to hook up? Are we even friends?"

"Last time I checked, friendship is not a requirement for a hook up," Seifer said, amused. "Relax. Don't read more into it than there was."

"I'm not interested in a hook up," Zell said. "Not with you."

"Then what do you want from me?" Seifer asked. "Why are you here?"

"I don't know how to answer that."

"For fuck's sake, Chicken-wuss, what do you want?" Seifer demanded.

Zell switched off the television and downed the rest of his beer. He said nothing for a long time, but stood up, his hands shaking as he drifted across the room to stare at the faded photo of the whole gang in front of the light house.

"What I want," he said slowly, "Is what all the others have. They're all getting married and having kids, buying houses and getting divorced and making something worthwhile in this shitty world."

Zell turned his eyes away from the photo and half-turned without facing Seifer. His face in profile was as bitter as his tone.

"I don't _want_ a hook up. I want something real. I want someone to come home to. Someone besides my Ma to ask me how my day was, someone to help me find my damn keys when I lose them," he paused and crossed his arms over his chest. "I want someone... Someone I don't have to hide myself from."

He turned all the way around and glared at the wall behind Seifer's head.

"I'm tired of pretending to be someone else."

It was a much bigger answer than Seifer expected. He suspected the sadness he sometimes heard in Zell's voice when he talked about the others had something to do with envy. Seifer just hadn't understood to what extent Zell envied them.

"As far as you're concerned," Zell said. "I don't know what I want from you. You know me better than anyone else, and that scares the shit out of me. You, of all people."

Seifer shared the sentiment. Nine years of conversation allowed for an unusually deep understanding of one another and Seifer couldn't deny and it scared the shit out of him too.

"I'm better than nobody, right?" Seifer asked.

This time, when Seifer leaned down and brushed his mouth against Zell's, Zell kissed him back. It wasn't the heated, passionate kind of kiss Seifer knew, but hesitant and cautious and careful.

Even now, Seifer didn't have a word that fit what it did to him. All he knew was that Zell was the only person that gave a shit and Seifer didn't want him to go away. Maybe, what Zell needed was the same thing Seifer needed – _somebody_.

Seifer spent a lifetime craving someone he could hang onto, and a third of that time in isolation. His whole life, he'd been more or less alone, and Seifer couldn't stand the idea of being alone anymore. The fact that it was Zell was more than a little ironic.

When Zell pushed him away, Seifer expected it.

"I said I don't want a hook up, man."

"This isn't a hook up."

"Then what is it?"

"This is me giving you what you want, shithead," Seifer said. "I thought that was obvious."

"I really hate you sometimes, Almasy."

"Yeah, but you're still here, aren't you?" Seifer said. "I'll be whatever you need me to be, Dincht. Fuck me, fight me, I don't care. Just... Stick around for a while."

Seifer had never said anything like that to anyone, not in his whole life, but he never cared about anyone enough to need to. He could live with Zell not wanting a physical relationship. What he couldn't live with was Zell not being there. He was an essential part of Seifer's life and something he wasn't willing to give up.

Zell took a shaky breath and pressed his back against the wall with his eyes closed. He didn't say anything for a long time and Seifer stood there, terrified that he'd wrecked everything by being too honest.

Finally, Zell opened his eyes.

"Can we do both?" he asked wryly.

"Why not? Could be fun."

For the first time since that morning, Zell smiled and Seifer dropped to his knees, unbuttoned Zell's jeans and gave him a damn good reason to stick around.

Seifer recounted this story to Rinoa as best as he could, while she sat there taking it all in. When he was done, he twisted the cap off a fresh beer, drank it and waited for her to say something. Words would never quite convey the depth or intensity of it, but Seifer had done his best.

"That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard," she finally said.

"You must have a warped definition of romance."

"Showing up every other week for nine years is really romantic, Seifer," Rinoa insisted. "Only a really special person would do that."

"He's special, all right," Seifer said with a grin. "After all these years, I still don't know why he kept showing up."

Rinoa poked at the sand with her toe and unearthed a pinkish scallop shell. She picked it up and examined it, turned it over and brushed the sand from the coral-colored inside.

"Have you asked him?"

"A thousand times. I never get a straight answer."

"Guess you needed each other," she said. "Funny how it works, huh? Can't stand someone one day, and then the next you can't imagine being without them..."

"Passion is passion," Seifer said, "and you want what you want."

He paused, wondering what Zell's reaction to all this was going to be.

"He was really fond of you, Rin," Seifer said. "The way he talked about you sometimes, you were pretty much his favorite person in the world, and he made sure I knew it when he still blamed me for you not coming back. I think he had the hots for you back then."

Rinoa laughed and gave his shoulder a shove.

"I actually think it was Squall, not me."

"Now that's not a surprise," Seifer muttered.

It didn't escape him that she'd finally said Squall's name out loud.


	5. Chapter 5

Five

* * *

On his way to buy flowers for his Ma, Zell passed the barbershop, stopped and peered at his reflection in the window. He ran his fingers through his spiky bangs and decided it was time for something different.

As the barber snipped away the long strands, Zell feared it was a grave mistake. Seifer joked Zell's hair was a third of his height, and after a lifetime of cruel nicknames about his size, anything that called attention to it was unwelcome. But, when the barber finished, what Zell saw in the mirror didn't look like a mistake. He ran his fingers through the short layers and fluffed them, pleased with the result.

He headed to the flower shop afterward and picked out a large bundle of tiger lilies for his Ma and as he paid, the girls behind the counter showered him with flirtatious compliments and praised the new style. Delighted by the flattery, Zell returned to the house with a little more pep in his step. It was as if the haircut left him twenty pounds lighter and a thousand times more confident.

"Hey Ma!" he called as he entered the house, "I'm back."

Ma did a double take at Zell's new 'do as he offered the flowers. The lilies were _just because_, not for a special occasion, or any reason other than because she was his Ma and lilies were her favorite.

"These are beautiful, Zell," she said. "And your hair!"

"You like it?" he asked and fluffed it.

"You finally look like a grown-up."

She put the flowers in a vase as Zell rooted through drawers in the kitchen in search of his missing phone charger. He wasn't taking all his belongings to Centra with him, but the charger was essential. Ma would kill him if he didn't stay in touch. Selphie would murder him dead.

"You know that girl at the flower shop is very fond of you, Zell," Ma said. "You should ask her out."

"Still gay, Ma."

They had this same conversation at least once a week since he'd come out to her a year ago. First it was the girl from the post office. Then a series of girls from church. And the girl who delivered the morning paper. Ma just didn't get it. She meant well, and she only wanted him to be happy, but she didn't understand what it wasn't a phase.

"I know, I know, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't give the opposite sex a try before you make up your mind," Ma said. "She's a nice girl."

"I'm sure she is, but no," Zell said. "And I already told you, I've already tried dating women and it didn't change a thing."

"Maybe you just haven't met the right girl."

"There is no right girl for me," he said. "Now if you were to tell me the blonde guy with the shoulders at the butcher shop asked for my number, that might be different."

Ma blanched and shook her head. Then, she smiled a wicked, mischievous smile.

"Well, he is handsome, I'll give you that," she said.

"Stop trying to set me up, okay? I'm fine. Really."

"I just want you to be happy, son. Though grandbabies before I die would be nice, too."

Zell closed the drawer and wrapped her up in a fierce hug. She drove him crazy, but she only had his best interests in mind, and no matter how misguided her efforts, she loved him. And even if she hadn't totally accepted the idea, at least she was trying.

"I love you, Ma," he said. "And I am happy."

She searched his face, her eyes like laser beams as she looked for any sign of betrayal in his expression. She'd always been able to tell when he was lying. Since childhood, her powerful, scrutinizing glare could crack him and force him to spill the truth, no matter how hard he tried to resist.

There was no lie in his face today, and nothing to lie about. Zell _was_ happy. Happy to be done with SeeD. Happy he had things to look forward to.

"Gotta finish packing before I head to dinner," he said as he dropped a kiss against Ma's temple. "Sure you don't want to join us?"

"No it's fine. I have my church club tonight," she said. "Besides, you should enjoy dinner with your friends without your pain-in-the-backside old Ma there."

Zell hugged her again and assured her she was not a pain, and she was welcome to come if she liked. Still, she refused.

His room was a mess. Piles of clothes were scattered everywhere and stacks of old magazines littered the floor. He intended to go through and get rid of things before he left, and he started the project with the best of intentions, but abandoned it mid-week. There was no time to finish it now. Knowing his Ma, she would probably just put all the stuff back once he was gone anyway.

As he packed, he thought about all the things that led him to quit SeeD for good. The reason he gave Seifer was only part of it. It didn't feel like home anymore, but maybe not for the reasons he mentioned.

Zell's last mission was a bad one. SeeD responded to a rescue call in Dollet, after a gas line ignited and reduced a school to rubble. Zell led the mission, and was one of the first responders on scene after the blaze died down. He and his team spent three days sifting through smoldering ruins and rubble for survivors with little success.

Only six children and two teachers were found alive. Zell blamed himself for not finding more. If they'd looked harder, or started their search in a different spot, maybe more would have survived.

It was the hardest thing he was ever expected to do for SeeD, worse than Ultimecia in its own way and it ripped him apart. The faces of the ones that didn't survive haunted him. So many lost souls, and the more they found too late, the more certain Zell became that one more mission would be the end of him.

None of his friends understood how hard it hit him. He came back from Dollet with a broken heart, and no one saw it. They didn't notice he was quieter than usual or that he spent a lot of time alone trying to come to terms with it. They all told him what a good job he'd done, never knowing that every mention of it drove the stake a little deeper.

Two days after, Zell took the train to the orphanage and he put on a brave face and pretended he was fine, but inside, there was nothing but anguish. Seifer saw right through him the second he stepped off the train, and when they got to the house, Seifer quietly asked, "Do you need to cry, shithead?"

After holding onto heartbreak for days, Zell broke down. It forced him to his knees on the kitchen floor, his legs shaking too hard to hold his weight. And when Seifer's arms went around him, Zell started bawling and couldn't stop.

Seifer just let him. There were no questions, no jokes, and no smart-ass comments, just a startling amount of compassion from a man the whole world thought was a monster.

Zell didn't know how Seifer knew about the mission until the next morning, when he found a week-old newspaper in the living room with Zell's picture on the front page. In it, Zell carried an injured eight-year-old girl out of the rubble, his face stone cold, tear tracks in the soot on his cheeks. All Zell remembered was how finding one little girl alive was some kind of miracle.

It meant something that Seifer saw through it when one else did, and it meant something that Zell never needed to say it aloud for Seifer to know. Sometimes, Zell wanted to punch him in the face, and other times, Seifer, in his own blunt way, was the kindest person Zell had ever met. He almost always knew what to say or do when Zell was on the verge of falling apart.

None of his friends knew about it, and Zell planned to keep it that way. They wouldn't understand how complex their relationship was, or how it had taken over nine years to get where they were.

On paper, they didn't make sense and would probably never make sense to some people. Hell, half the time, it didn't make sense to Zell, either. But for better or worse, it worked.

As he stuffed his favorite blue hoodie into his bag, along with his favorite jeans, his phone rang. He knew without looking who it was.

"S'up."

"Still plan on heading out in the morning?"

"Leaving tonight, actually," he said. "Selphie insisted on throwing a retirement party, but after dinner and drinks, I'm on the last train out."

There was silence on the other end of the line, and Zell wondered if Seifer changed his mind.

"You still there?" Zell asked.

"Yeah," he said and there was another long pause. "Give me a second."

Seifer's voice was muffled and a staticy breeze cut across the speaker on Seifer's end.

"Housekeeper being nosy again?"

"Sort of," Seifer said. "Look, before you leave, I need to know if you can keep a secret."

Zell was intrigued.

"What kind of secret?"

"A big one," Seifer said. "The kind that could fuck up people's lives if they knew about it."

"You hiding a dead body in the back bedroom, or what?"

Seifer made a weird choked noise that turned into a chuckle.

"Dude, you didn't kill anybody did you?"

"No, I didn't kill anybody," he snapped. "I need your word, Dincht. I need you to swear on your Ma's life that you won't say a word, no matter what it is."

"Okay, okay," Zell said. "I swear. I haven't said a word about us, have I?"

"I don't give a shit who knows about that."

"Can you tell me what it is?"

"Not over the phone. You wouldn't believe me anyway," Seifer said. "This is something you're going to have to see for yourself."

"Seriously, man," Zell said. "You're freaking me out."

"Trust me, you're going to shit yourself."

Zell wiped a hand over his eyes and wondered what the hell he was getting himself into.

* * *

They gathered around a table in a private dining room at the Balamb Hotel to celebrate Zell's retirement and extended vacation. Squall faked a light mood as the group chatted and toasted Zell's adventure, but as the evening wore on, it was hard not to walk out.

Every last one of them was on suicide watch. They cast glances his way, as if they expected him to slit his wrists with his butter knife. He desperately wanted a drink, but they would start counting, so he ordered water instead.

Cid, Liz, Seth, and Quistis' fiancée, Ben joined the festivities, the more the merrier Selphie proclaimed. With so many people around, Squall didn't have to talk much and he lost track of the conversation, lost in his own thoughts about how to fix his fucked up head.

Forks and knives scraped against china, ice clinked against glass. It grated on Squall's nerves and each sound contributed to the rising agitation in his gut. He was hyper-aware of every noise, of Selphie's shrill laugh, and Irvine's slow drawl. Somewhere in the room, a clock counted down the minutes and seconds until he could leave without judgment.

When Seth crawled into his lap and sat on his knees, the noise in Squall's head died down to a dull roar. A few chairs away, Liz cast him concerned glance as she lifted her third glass of wine to her lips and took a casual sip to hide her frown.

"Dad, can I have the rest of your fries?"

"You're still hungry?" Squall asked.

"I'm growing," Seth informed him. "There are car-bo-hi-rates in p'tatoes and my body needs those to grow."

Squall laughed at Seth's careful but incorrect pronunciation of the word carbohydrates. It never ceased to amaze Squall how smart his son was. One of Selphie's girls was Seth's age and didn't have half the vocabulary.

"Who told you that?"

"Dr. Gallagher," Seth said. "So can I?"

"Knock yourself out, kiddo," Squall said.

Seth dragged a fry through a blob of ketchup and stuffed it in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed then turned toward Squall with a frown.

"Are you sick, dad?"

"I'm fine, buddy," Squall said, mussing the boy's hair. "And when did you decide to start calling me dad?"

"Today. Didn't you hear me earlier?"

"I did," Squall said. "Any reason?"

"I dunno," Seth said and stuffed another fry in his mouth.

Seth turned his attention to the remaining fries, and when he was done, he curled up in Squall's lap. Eventually, a time would come when Seth would leave childhood behind and he wouldn't need or want anyone to hold him, but Squall was grateful that day hadn't come yet.

Squall's thoughts drifted as Seth settled against him, to a place where he didn't want his mind to go.

… _just when I think I've gotten a handle on all the things I missed..._

He pictured Rinoa in Liz's place at the table, wrapped in cream colored silk, not a day older than the last time he saw her alive. He heard her laughter mingle with Selphie's, saw the wine glass lift to her lips as she turned her gaze on him.

… _I really fell down the rabbit hole, didn't I?_

"Squall?" Cid's voice, said, startling him out of his trance.

"Yeah?"

"I bet you're looking forward to the day when little Seth here becomes a SeeD," Cid said.

"Over my dead body," Squall said, a little too loudly and before he could stop the words from spilling out of his mouth.

Everyone stopped talking and turned their eyes on him.

"What?" he demanded.

They all looked away, embarrassed. Liz took a long swallow of wine and didn't complain when Irvine topped it off with more.

"I thought you would want that for him," Cid said, quieter, as the rest of the table returned to their individual conversations. "To follow in his father's footsteps?"

"Never," Squall said. "Not in a thousand years."

No way in hell would Squall allow Seth's innocence be shattered before he hit puberty. Seth could be a teacher like his mother, doctor like his grandmother, or he could build houses, or write a book, but there was no way Seth would ever be a SeeD. Ever.

"I should be getting Seth home to bed," Liz said. "It's well past bedtime and he's had a long week."

She didn't say it was a long week for her too, but Squall could read between the lines.

Squall lifted Seth up onto his hip and and stood. This was a perfect opportunity to make his escape, before he said anything else out-of-line or he lost his mind over all the noise.

"I'll drive you," he said.

"No need," she said.

"You had four glasses of wine with dinner," he said. "_I'll drive you_."

It wasn't the first time this issue reared its ugly head. Liz was not typically a heavy drinker, but in social settings, she tended to overindulge and think she was fine to drive. She could do as she pleased on her own as far as Squall was concerned, but _not_ with their son in the car.

Liz politely agreed without a fight, but only because there were witnesses. She fumbled through her purse for her keys, found them, but they slipped from her fingers and onto the floor as she passed them to Squall. He picked them up and pocketed them and noted the way she avoided his gaze.

They said their goodbyes and wished Zell luck before they went, but Squall never felt more insincere in his life. Pleasantries were not his thing, but if not for Zell, Squall would not be alive. Yet, he couldn't manage more than a generic and apathetic "see you around," too ashamed to express his gratitude even if it was earned.

He drove Liz and Seth home in silence. The boy fell asleep halfway home, but Liz stared out the window and toyed with the strap of her purse. Squall gritted his teeth at the _tickticktick_ of the clasp and buckle scraping together and he wondered if he would ever feel sane again.

He wanted to make things right. With Seth, Liz, and even to some degree, Laguna, but he was coming apart at the seams, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. They wouldn't understand, and if he told the truth, they would lock him up, drug him and write him off as a lunatic.

At the house, Squall carried his sleepin son inside and up the stairs to his room, where he tucked the boy in and watched him sleep. It still amazed him sometimes that this kid belonged to him.

Squall never expected a child to make such a profound impact on his life, but Seth was his everything. The world could burn for all Squall cared, so long as Seth was safe, and Squall loved his son for no other reason than because he existed.

Liz appeared in the doorway of Seth's room and leaned against the frame.

"You want some coffee?" she asked. "Tea?"

"I'm fine."

She was quiet for a minute.

"Did you mean what you said at dinner?" she asked. "About not wanting him to be a SeeD?"

"I meant it."

"Why?"

"Look around you, Liz," he said. "Look at what it did to us. It's not a life I want for him. I didn't think you'd have a problem with that."

"I don't," she said. "I'm just surprised."

Squall got up to leave, but as he stood, Seth rolled over in his sleep. The boy twitched and murmured something to himself, something that sounded like a name.

"He talks in his sleep," Liz said. "Just like you."

On the bed, Seth jerked awake and screamed, the sound sharp with terror as his hands grasped frantically for the blanket, the pillow, his stuffed lion - anything he could get a hold of. Squall soothed the boy back to reality and wiped the tears from his cheeks.

_He has nightmares like me, too._

"She's gone, dad," Seth said, sniffling.

Squall instinctively knew the answer to the question he was about to ask, but he asked anyway.

"Who's gone, buddy?"

"Rinoa," Seth said. "I saw her die."

Squall's heart beat too fast and his throat tightened. In the wall beside Seth's bed, he heard the gurgle of water through the pipes, and from outside, the distant wail of a siren.

The edges of Squall's vision went black, the throb of his own pulse thunderous in his ears and it was hard to breathe. He blinked back a vision of pale wings ascending toward the heavens, and Squall himself, old and bent and broken by time, crouched in a field of wildflowers beneath a star filled sky, the withered shape of a woman in his arms.

Beside them, a boy, surrounded in light.

"_I'll see you soon."_

-_Darkness_-

* * *

"We're still going dress shopping tomorrow, right?" Selphie asked, her words slurred from too many mixed drinks. "You didn't pick one without me did you?"

"Of course not," Quistis promised. "You know how hard it is to decide."

"I'm so happy for you!" Selphie threw a skinny arm around Quistis' shoulders and shook her enthusiastically. "You're marrying a doctor, Quistis! That's super awesome!"

Quistis smiled and patted her drunk friend on the back. Though Selphie's help navigating through the complexities of wedding planning proved useful, it was all she wanted to talk about.

"What about arriving on chocobo-back?" Selphie asked. "Just imagine, going down the aisle on the back of a majestic Trabian Chocobo, all decked out in pearls and silk... Wouldn't that be amazing?"

Selphie's excitement about Quistis' coming wedding far exceeded Quistis' own, and Selphie's tendency toward extravagance was often at war with Quistis' need for simplicity. Quistis wanted a small, quiet ceremony with only her closest friends in attendance. Selphie wanted to invite everybody, from the lunch lady to politicians she'd only met in passing. It made Quistis appreciate the idea of elopement more, though she would never actually go through with it.

"I don't know, Selphie," Quistis said. "That's not really my style."

"But just think of how pretty you'll look! And, and _Chocobos_!"

"All right Seffie," Irvine said as he took the drink from Selphie's hand. "Time to go home."

"Nooo," she wailed. "The party's just started."

"Zell leaves in an hour," Irvine said. "He's got to go get checked in. Let's say goodbye so he doesn't miss his train."

Selphie howled and sobbed as she said her goodbyes to Zell, and she kissed him all over the face, leaving him bemused and bewildered in the wake of a violent hug. There was no sense trying to get in her own well wishes while Selphie was still in the room, so Quistis hung back and waited.

"You better send post cards!" Selphie cried as Irvine dragged her away. "LOTS and LOTS of postcards!"

"I'll keep in touch, Sef," Zell promised.

Irvine hoisted Selphie up over his shoulder and carried her from the room, Selphie shouting mild obscenities at him on the way out.

When they were the only two left in the dining room, and Quistis held her arms out to hug her short, handsome friend. Zell stepped into her embrace, squeezed her tight, and lifted her off her feet, laughing. Short or not, he was still strong.

"Walk you to the train station?" she offered.

"Sure," he said. "I could use the company."

Zell hoisted the strap of a blue duffel bag over his shoulder and followed Quistis out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk. The train station was only a few blocks up, but Quistis was in no hurry to get there. It was so seldom they got the chance to talk alone these days, and now Zell was running off on an adventure for Hyne knew how long.

"I like the new hair cut," she said. "I wanted to say that earlier, but Selphie wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise."

"You'd have thought I cut off my arm," Zell said with a grin. "She can't help herself, can she?"

"That's why we love her," Quistis agreed. "But back to the hair. Any particular reason you decided to do it?"

Zell tried and failed to hide a sheepish smile behind a shrug. So there _was_ a reason. Maybe a _someone_?

"I just needed a change," he said. "Something easier to deal with."

Quistis looked him over as they strolled along. Something was definitely different, and it wasn't just the haircut. Zell flicked the strap of his bag with his index finger, and there was a bounce in his step, a lightness that wasn't there before.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were on your way to meet someone and not just taking off exploring," Quistis said.

Zell couldn't hide his smile this time. He blushed and chewed his bottom lip to keep his grin from growing too broad.

"Zell…" Quistis said when she realized she was right. "You're in love, aren't you?"

"It's not love… I don't know what it is."

"What else is there? Lust?"

"It's not really that, either," he said with a shrug. "I mean that's part of it, but..."

She linked her arm through his and stayed the hand that tugged at the strap of his bag.

"Well, what is it, then?"

He thought about it for a moment and chewed his lip.

"A whole bunch of things," he finally said.

"Like what?"

"I don't know, Quistis. It's just a thing that happened."

Quistis thought about how much Zell needed someone to share his life with. He struggled for a long time, not just to find himself, but with his conscience, too. Maybe it was his small town upbringing, prior to Garden, but Zell was never quite like the rest of them. He loved a good brawl, but hated killing, and he was too nice and too ruled by emotion for SeeD. Not that he hadn't been a good one, but the work left deeper scars on Zell than it did others.

But that was why Quistis loved him.

"So, does this lucky guy have a name?" she asked.

"He does."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"You're smart, Quistis. I bet if you think about it, you can figure it out."

Perplexed, Quistis took a mental inventory of everyone Zell knew or spent any significant amount of time with, but came up with nothing.

_Except…_

"_No_," she said stopped in her tracks. "No, Zell. Please tell me it's not."

"Well, that was fast," Zell said and scratched his chin. "You weren't supposed to figure it out until after I was gone."

"You're joking right?"

"Nope."

"I don't understand," she said.

"You don't know him like I do, Quis," Zell said. "I know it doesn't make sense, but…"

"How long?" she asked. "I mean, _how_? _Why?_"

Quistis was _so_ confused. They hated each other, didn't they?

Quistis never understood why Zell bothered to visit Seifer in prison. Quistis tried to reach out to Seifer a few times herself, but he made it pretty clear there was nothing to say, so what in the world could those two have to talk about, and for so long?

"I don't know, we just sorta started hanging out," Zell said. "I don't know how to explain it or justify it to you, but there's a lot more to him than you think, Quis. Please don't judge, okay?"

"I'm not judging, I just don't understand."

"I'm not asking you to understand," he said. "I just want your support. And for you to keep this to yourself."

"I support you, I just want to make sure you know what you're getting into," Quistis said. "Are you really sure about this?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

* * *

When Squall came to he sat on the floor in Liz's bedroom, his head in his hands. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten there. The last thing he recalled was Seth, screaming.

Liz sat across from him on the floor, her back against the bedpost, and she stared at him, her face devoid of expression.

Nearby, something _tick-tick-ticked _in the otherwise silent room.

"How does Seth know about her?" she asked softly. "Did you tell him?"

Squall shook his head. Rinoa did not come up in casual conversation, and she certainly wouldn't have come up in front of Seth.

"Are you sure?" Liz asked. "Because he seems to know a lot about her."

"I can barely say her name out loud," Squall said. "Let alone talk about her. "

"Then how does he know?"

"I don't know," Squall said. "Maybe he overheard someone, like Cid or Selphie or someone."

"He's having nightmares, Squall. About her. Just like you."

"My demons are not Seth's," he snapped.

"What if…" she whispered. "What if…"

"What if he turns out like me?" he asked.

Liz didn't answer, but her face crumpled and she wiped a hand over her mouth. When she met his gaze, her eyes were full of worry and fear.

"I'm scared," she said softly. "I don't know how to help you. I don't know how to help him."

"He's a kid," Squall said. "Kids have nightmares. It's normal."

"This isn't the first time," she cried. "It's not the first time he's woken up saying her name!"

"What?" Squall asked, stunned. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Do you honestly think you could have handled it?" she asked. "As it is, you went away in there after he said it. Your eyes were open but you weren't there and you've been sitting here for almost fifteen minutes with nobody home."

Somewhere in the room, the ticking continued, louder and louder and louder, and Squall couldn't stand it. He stood and searched for the sound, mindless with need to make it stop.

On the dresser, a small battery operated clock with glow-in-the-dark hands counted down the passing seconds of his life, and Squall snatched it up and pulled the tab to remove the batteries. When it didn't open, he hurled it across the room and took a perverse satisfaction in the way it blasted into pieces when it hit the wall and clattered to the floor.

Liz's hand pressed into his back, and she laid her cheek against his shoulderblade as he tried to get a hold of himself. She leaned in and circled an arm around his waist and Squall closed his eyes as she held him tight.

"What can I do to help you, Squall?" she whispered.

His words came three years too late, but he said them anyway.

"Don't leave me."

He turned, took her face in his palms and pressed his mouth to hers, desperate to feel something other than confusion and pain. He tasted wine on her lips as he kissed her deeper and her body arched against his, a familiar but near-forgotten thing. She tugged at his belt and he backed her toward the bed, his hands tearing at expensive silk and lace and he let himself pretend, just for a little while, that she was someone else.


	6. Chapter 6

Six

* * *

_A lone figure stood on a cliff, high above the ocean. She stared up at the sky and watched puffy white clouds drift lazily across a bright field of cerulean, her dark hair a banner streaming out behind her in the wind._

_Everything about her screamed Rinoa._

_Squall willed her to turn around and face him, but he feared this was just a dream and she would dissolve into nothing if he said a word._

_Her hand lifted and she offered a circular gesture to the clouds. Flower petals swirled up from the ground and brushed up against him, floating like a thousand pastel butterflies on the breeze._

_The petals spun in wider and wider circles, twisted spirals of color, until they danced above her and exploded outward like confetti. Pure white feathers poured down like rain and Squall brushed them from his hair and his jacket, his heart in his throat._

_Feathers._

_He ran toward her, desperate to see her face. He stopped, a few feet away, his hands and knees shaking, his brow damp with sweat._

_"Rinoa?" he whispered._

_She turned toward him, exactly as he remembered her - kind brown eyes, dark hair, creamy complexion, soft rosebud lips that had once felt so perfect against his own._

_"Squall?" she whispered back. "You made it."_

_Seth stood beside her, a pair of tawny wings on his back. He slipped his hand into hers, his smile sweet, innocent, but his eyes full of secrets._

_"She's not lost anymore, dad," he said. "I found her."_

_He fell to his knees and closed his eyes -_

\- and when he opened them, he sat upright in a bed that was not his own. Morning sunlight streamed in through the blinds and stung his eyes as he gazed around the room.

Liz's room, _their_ room, when they were still married.

Discarded clothing littered the floor, both his and hers, and Squall cursed himself as he sat up to retrieve his boxer shorts. Beside him, Liz shifted, opened her eyes and offered a warm smile.

_I have no business being here._

"You actually slept," she said.

"Hmm."

Her hands slid over his back and she pulled him back into the bed, her body sliding up next to his. He tensed, then relaxed into her warmth, in need of something he couldn't name.

He slept through the night, he dreamed, but not a terrible dream for a change. He pondered that. If it was because Liz was there to chase it away, Squall would take it.

But Seth...

_Just a dream._

"Thanks for letting me stay last night," he said.

"It's still your house, Squall," Liz said. "Besides, after everything last week…"

He knew what she wanted to say but didn't: she'd rather he be here where she could keep an eye on him than leave him to his self-destructive devices.

The suicide watch was still in full effect. It made him feel like a burden, but also called up a fair amount of irritation at being treated like he was fragile.

"You thought I needed a pity fuck?"

She winced and propped her head up on her hand. Dark curls spilled over her bare, freckled shoulders, and Squall remembered a time when he would pick out patterns in them, faces and constellations and shapes he traced with a fingertip. Now, they were just a reminder of who she wasn't and could never be.

"No," she said, hurt. "And besides, is it really so wrong to want to comfort you?"

"It's not wrong," he said. "I just..."

"Don't you dare say you don't deserve it," she said. "You need to open your eyes and look around you, Squall. There are people around you who love you, who would do anything to help you through whatever it is you're going through. All you have to do is ask."

Hyne, she opened her mouth and Rinoa came out. Not the exact words, but close.

"Liz, don't."

Squall sat up and turned his back on her, but wasn't surprised when she wouldn't let him go. Her cheek pressed between his shoulders, and all the annoyance and fight went out of him. He treated her like shit, and still she loved him. She could say what she wanted; he didn't deserve her.

"I want to take Seth to a doctor about his nightmares," Liz said. "It isn't normal and I'm worried."

Squall didn't think it would do any good. The dreams weren't normal, but no doctor could fix that, but if it gave her peace of mind, Squall would consent to it. The doctor would listen to a few of them, declare them normal childhood dreams that would pass in time, and maybe Liz would let it go.

"I also want you to see someone about yours," she said.

"I'm seeing a therapist twice a week starting Monday," he said. "Doctor's orders."

"Please go this time, okay?"

"I'll go," he promised.

She pressed her lips to his shoulder, but her silence said she didn't believe him. He had a history of skipping out on therapy sessions. This time, there wasn't a choice.

"I should get a shower," she said. "I have to go to work."

"It's Saturday," Squall said.

"Book fair," she said. "Starts at ten."

"I know it's not my weekend, but do you mind if I hang out with Seth for the day?"

"I don't see why not," she said.

She climbed from the bed, not a stitch on and Squall tracked her across the room, torn between his mind and his body. Liz was real and alive and she loved him. He didn't deserve her, but she was there and Rinoa was gone and she was never coming back.

"Hey, Liz?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think… Maybe we could try again?" he asked. "To work things out?"

She turned toward him and he winced when it wasn't Liz he saw, but Rinoa, and Liz read it in his face. The split second of hope, the crush of disappointment.

"I love you, but I don't want to compete with a dead girl," she said softly. "Get past her, get better, and we'll talk about it."

* * *

Zell stepped off the train in Capetown, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder and took note of the lack of humidity and cooler temperature. It was still hot, but not the oppressive humid-hot of late summer in Balamb. He breathed it in and half danced down the steps as yesterday's lightness persisted.

Seifer waited nearby, his back pressed to a pillar. Preoccupied, he started when Zell approached.

"S'up?"

Seifer brushed his hand over Zell's newly shortened bangs and frowned.

"The hell did you do to your head, stupid?"

"Needed something different," Zell said with a shrug. "You like?"

"I hate it."

"You've been giving me shit about my hair for years!"

"Yeah, but now what am I going give you shit about?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll find something," Zell assured him.

They stopped in the small market for groceries, and Seifer hastily filled the basket with items at random, unusually distracted as they wandered through the aisles. Zell attempted conversation, but Seifer was too deep inside his own head to participate.

The drive to the orphanage was quiet and tense. Seifer didn't talk about the progress on the house, or about anything at all.

"You're acting weird," Zell finally said. "Did you hook up with the housekeeper, or something?"

"Why the hell would I do that?"

"I don't know," Zell said. "So what's the deal?"

"You'll see when we get back to the house. Quit worrying, Dincht. I'm fine."

In the driveway, Seifer put the truck in park and let it idle. He stared through the windshield at the house, lost in thought as he chewed his lip.

"Seifer -"

"I need you to swear to me not a word about this gets back to Garden," Seifer finally said. "Not a single word."

"Dude, seriously? You're freaking me out."

"Zell, swear to me. I know you have a problem keeping your big mouth shut about stuff, so I need your word that no matter what, you don't say a fucking thing about it. To _anyone_."

Seifer almost never called Zell by his first name. It was always Dincht, shithead, chicken-wuss, or stupid. _Never_ Zell.

All the hair on Zell's arms stood up as he looked Seifer over. The man was tense and from the looks of it, stretched thin enough to snap.

"I swear, not a word," Zell said.

Seifer scratched his chin and gazed at the house where a young, dark-haired girl stood on a ladder, painting a repaired column. The housekeeper, Zell assumed. Leave it to Seifer to make the housekeeper help out with the renovation.

Seifer bit his lip and switched off the engine. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, still silent, and Zell lost his patience.

"Dude, really?" Zell said. "Just tell me already."

"Rinoa's here."

If this was a joke, it was a cruel one, especially in the wake of whatever happened with Squall.

"Dude, that's not funny."

"It wasn't a joke."

"Seriously, man. _Not funny_."

Seifer recounted a tale of finding Rinoa outside in the rain, still seventeen and awaiting her comrades return. The more he talked, the less Zell believed. Whatever game Seifer played, Zell was not about to take the bait. The more Zell heard, the more it infuriated him.

"You know what? I'm out of here," Zell said. "I'll walk back."

He grabbed his duffel bag from the floor of the truck, put his hand on the door handle and flung it open. Seifer's hand wrapped around Zell's bicep and yanked him back. Zell was forced to look at him, and he paused at Seifer's troubled expression. Either Rinoa really was here or Seifer really believed she was.

"Don't leave," Seifer said. "She wants to see you, and I want you to stay."

"I think you're spending way too much time alone," Zell said. "Imagining things."

"This is why I didn't tell you on the phone."

Zell almost got out of the truck anyway. It was only out of concern for Seifer's mental health that he hesitated.

"If you're lying, I'm gonna break your face," Zell said meanly. "And maybe all your ribs, too."

"Fair enough," Seifer said. "I'll warn you ahead of time, she still looks seventeen."

Zell climbed from the truck, his heart in his throat as he followed Seifer to the newly finished front gate.

"Rin," he called, "get over here!"

The girl was still a good distance away, and her face obscured by flyaway strands escaped from a loose ponytail. With impressive speed, she descended the ladder, vaulted the inner wall and ran full tilt toward them, a blur of cream and black and plaid. She crashed into Zell and threw her arms around his neck and Zell wondered how much Seifer paid the housekeeper to go along with this scheme.

It never occurred to Zell that this was not some fucked up joke at his expense. Not until she let him go and took a step back, smiling through tear filled eyes.

Zell took in every detail of her face and frame, unable to believe this was really real. His long, lost friend stood before him in the flesh, and it was just as Seifer said: she was exactly as he remembered.

"Rin?" he croaked. "Is that really you?"

She bit her lip and nodded, hands clasped behind her back. "It's me."

"Where in the ever living _fuck_ have you been?"

Then, he threw his arms around her and crushed her to him.

Zell held her too tight and too long, but he was afraid if he let go, she would disappear and he would wake on the train somewhere between Galbadia and Centra to find it was only a dream.

But hell, if it was, Zell didn't want to wake up.

He'd missed her almost as much as Squall had. During the war, they'd become fast friends, commiserating over books and Squallismis and their initial mutual hatred of Irvine Kinneas. Though he long ago accepted she was gone, Zell never, ever wanted to forget her the way the others had.

"I told you it was real," Seifer said. "I'm gonna get the groceries from the truck before her highness starts complaining about lack of food again."

"You remembered my cake, right?" she asked.

"Yes, your Majesty," Seifer said.

"Let me look at you," Zell said.

She really did look exactly as he remembered her, completely unchanged by time and age. As impossible as it seemed, she really _was_ here.

"How did this happen?" he asked.

"I don't know. I was just... wandering around in time compression and then I was here," she said with a shrug. "The last thing I remember before that was fighting Ultimecia."

He dropped a hand against her cheek and peered into her face. Ten years gone, and she never got the chance to live them.

"You've missed so much, Rin," he said. "You have no idea how much you missed."

"Seifer showed me some articles," she said. "I'm sort of caught up. But, he didn't tell me about you until yesterday."

Zell rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed by her teasing tone.

"Are you cool with it?" he asked.

"Of course I am, as long as you're happy."

"I'm happy," he said softly. "Hyne, I can't believe you're here."

"It only feels like it's been a few days, but…"

Zell pulled her into a tight embrace again, breathing her in. She smelled like paint and salt and flowers and he didn't want to let her go.

Seifer's hands were full of grocery bags when he returned. Zell promptly released Rinoa and grabbed a few bags and followed Seifer into the house.

Inside, Zell took note of all the work Seifer had done to the place. It was almost livable again, after months of holes in walls covered by plastic tarps and lights that didn't want to stay on and leaks in the roof that flooded entire rooms.

"Coming along nice. I see you finished the roof," Zell said. "You should have seen it, Rin. This place was a disaster a few months ago. Some bum had been living in here and it was full of spiders."

Rinoa shuddered. "I hate spiders."

"There are still plenty of them around," Seifer said. "To get rid of them all, I'd have to set the place on fire."

Zell shuddered at the thought and muttered under his breath. Seifer found Zell's fear of spiders hilarious, and took any opportunity to torment him with practical jokes and strategically placed lifelike toys, up to and including a creepily realistic remote control the size of a small cat.

In the kitchen, Zell helped unpack the groceries while Rinoa thumbed through a stack of photos at the table in silence. Zell peeked over her shoulder at a photo of Squall with his boy and flinched. He caught Seifer's gaze, and wondered what it must be like to come back and find the whole world moved on.

She must have come back expecting Squall to be waiting. Instead, she'd returned to find she was only a memory and the boy she loved was a grown man. The past week must have been harder than she let on.

"Rin, burger or steak?" Seifer asked.

"Feed me," she said. "I don't care what it is, just feed me."

Seifer dropped a slice of cake in front of her.

"Have a snack," he said. "We're gonna go light the grill.

She waved him off with a familiar gesture, a casual dismissal Zell had seen a hundred times during the war.

It was strange to Zell that she wasn't more excited to see him, but he reminded himself that for her, it had only been days, not ten whole years since they'd last seen one another.

When they stepped outside into the late afternoon sun, Seifer turned to Zell and hooked an arm around his neck to bring him against his chest in a brief, but fierce hug.

"Welcome home, Dincht."

* * *

Not quite five, Seth had already perfected Squall's poker face. Squall wondered if it was a learned or an inherited trait.

As they sat on a bench in the park, sharing a basket of popcorn shrimp and fries, Seth gave nothing away but Squall sensed there was something on his mind. He stared at his food like the answers to life's most pressing questions could be found there, yet found those answers lacking.

Nearby, an abandoned swing twisted in the breeze, its chains clicking together, too loud,_ too __loud_, and for a second, it was the only thing Squall could hear.

-**tick**-

_Some day, you'll get your heart broken._

-**tick**-

_You won't know why._

-**tick**-

_It'll hurt so much, you won't be able to breathe._

-**tick**-

_You'll look up, and no one will be there._

"I have something to give you," Seth said. "Close your eyes and hold out your hand."

Squall did as the boy asked, and Seth placed something soft in his palm that had no weight to it.

"Okay, open."

Squall peered into his palm, expecting the usual assortment of items of interest to a child – dandelion fluff, flower petals, maybe a broken butterfly – and cupped in his hand was none of these things, but a single white feather.

His pulse thumped in his ears, above the noise of clinking chains and his heart fluttered out a sickening beat in his chest.

_Feathers_.

"Where did you get this?" Squall whispered.

"Rinoa gave it to me," Seth said. "She's not lost anymore, Dad."

Darkness encroached on his vision, around the the edges of blinding sunshine, and Squall swallowed down a whimper as it threatened to suck him under. His hand closed around the feather, crushing it without meaning to as he struggled to breathe.

"It's okay dad, she's not scared anymore, so you shouldn't be either."

"How do you know about her?"

His pulse was in his fingertips and in his toes and his hands shook so hard, he had to ball them into fists against his thighs to keep them steady.

"She talks to me in dreams," Seth said conspiratorially. "She gave me magic and wings."

"Nobody told you about her?" Squall asked.

"No, she's just in my dreams," Seth said. "But she's a real person."

"How do you know that?"

"I saw her in Auntie Selphie's pictures."

"When?"

"Janie's birthday."

Selphie's daughter Janie's birthday was the week before Squall's overdose. Perhaps the dreams stemmed from those old photos rather than some supernatural source. Except, it didn't explain why Seth was in Squall's dreams, or why Seth's dreams were of Time Compression.

"You were her Knight, like in the story books," Seth said. "You should go save her. That's what Knights are supposed to do."

"Seth, buddy," Squall said. "Rinoa is someone I knew a long time ago, but she died in a war before you were born."

"She didn't die, she got lost," Seth insisted. "In the time stuff. But she came back and she's sad because everyone forgot her."

"Did Aunt Selphie tell you all this stuff?"

Maybe Selphie turned it into a story for the kids without realizing Seth might take it to heart or even believe it to be real. He was too young to truly separate fantasy from reality.

"No, I told you. It's my dreams."

Squall couldn't take anymore. Seth was scaring the hell out of him.

There was no way he could know some of these things, and it wasn't possible he dreamed it all up. He _couldn't_ know about Squall being Rinoa's Knight. A handful of people knew the truth, but it wasn't something anybody talked about casually. The only explanation was Selphie.

Across the table, Seth waved a hand above his paper plate and it crumpled, as if crushed in a man's fist, and it rose up from the table and floated to the trash bin nearby, all by itself.

Seth stared back at Squall, cool blue eyes ageless and unflinching.

And all the darkness swallowed Squall whole.

* * *

All through dinner, Rinoa watched Seifer and Zell, amazed by how time had changed them. They were both so grown up, and they related so well to one another, in a snarky kind of way, that by the time dinner was done, she was completely sold on the idea of them as a couple.

It was the loaded glances and the secret smiles and the occasional brush of a hand against an arm, but also the teasing and laughter they shared that convinced her. It was nice, to see two people who shouldn't have made any sense at all work so well together.

But her heart ached for Squall. Her memory of him was still fresh in her mind. Only days ago, he'd kissed her and held her aboard the Ragnarok, their final battle only hours away, bodies pressed close together in a bunk as Irvine catcalled outside the door. If she closed her eyes she could still feel his arms around her and smell the gunpowder residue on his skin, and the first, hesitant press of his body into hers.

She had told him he was the one who gave her the most comfort, and that was the truth. It didn't seem possible that quiet, tender moment was so long ago it was just a faded memory.

After dinner, they moved to the living room, where Zell broke open a bottle of whiskey and passed it around. They were already a few beers in, but Rinoa was game for something a little stronger, as Zell's arrival brought her both joy and sadness.

Zell had changed. Rinoa could tell that right away. Gone was the hyperactive, nervous insecurity. Gone the instantly recognizable hair. Gone the loud, indignation and imagined persecution about everything under the sun. Like Seifer, his shoulders were broader, his face more rugged and handsome, but he was leaner and there was a weariness in his eyes she hadn't expected.

Not the boy she'd left behind, but a man. The only thing that remained was his big, sunny grin.

Zell took a seat on the couch, bottle of beer in one hand, the whiskey in the other. Seifer plopped down beside him and dropped his head against Zell's thigh, his feet propped on the arm rest like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"You two are adorable," she observed.

"_I'm_ adorable," Seifer said. "Dincht's still an idiot."

"Screw you, I'm a delight. Asshole."

"Shithead."

Rinoa giggled and shook her head at their banter. Every insult was laced with affection, terms of endearment, pillow talk.

When Seifer finished his beer, he grabbed at Zell's half consumed bottle. Zell lifted it out of his reach and scowled.

"Dude. The fridge is over there. Get your own."

"Gimmie the damn beer."

"No. Mine," Zell said. "Do you understand the concept of _mine_?"

"My house, my beer, my rules," Seifer said, "Hand it over."

"Keep it up and I'm going to stick this bottle so far up-"

"I'll get the next round," Rinoa interrupted. She definitely did not want to hear the rest of that statement. "Zell? Another?"

"Sure," he said. "But get two for this idiot so he keeps his paws off mine."

She padded to the kitchen and retrieved four bottles from the fridge. As she returned to the living room, Seifer clasped one big hand around the back of Zell's neck and kissed him, almost tenderly and Rinoa took a step back and out of sight.

Unwelcome tears filled her eyes and she braced herself against the wall, her breath gone and her heart in revolt.

Squall would never kiss her that way again. He had a wife and a son, and a whole other life she never got the chance to live with him. A life there was no chance for now.

She choked on a sob as she slid to the floor. The beer bottles rolled away from her grasp and rattled across the battered linoleum as she struggled to pull herself together.

She had lost _so_ much. Everything, really. Everything she hoped for when she stepped out of Time Compression was just a long ago memory, just like she was. As she sobbed into her hands, a chasm opened up inside her. There was no place in this world for her now, she didn't belong, she was just a ghost, a walking memory and everything that mattered to her was gone.

"Rin?" Zell called. "You got an ETA on those beers? Hey – aw, shit."

He dropped to the floor beside her and pressed her head into his shoulder, cradling her against him with more tenderness than she deserved, and it only made her cry harder. Every last bit of her control broke, and she sobbed harder than she'd ever done before. She choked on her tears, ashamed for losing it, but powerless to stop herself from going to pieces.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," she whispered. "I'm no one anymore. I'm nobody."

"You're not nobody," Zell promised.

"I've lost everything."

"Not everything," he said. "I'm still here. I might be old now, but I never forgot about you."

"What do I do?" she asked in a small voice. "Where do I go?"

"Stay here with us till you figure it out," Seifer said with a shrug. "It's not like you'd be in the way."

"Yeah," Zell said. "We'll be a weird, dysfunctional family that drinks too much and has an extreme aversion to proper social behavior."

Rinoa smiled through her tears at the mention of family. It was a smaller, stranger family than the one she thought she would come home to, but it was more than she anticipated in these new circumstances.

"I love you guys," she said. "I'm so sorry I came back too late."

* * *

Seifer expected Rinoa to break at some point, but he didn't expect it to hurt him as much as it did. After all, he was responsible for getting her involved in the whole mess, his bravado and his youthful arrogance the source of too many bad things, and is gut told him, this too, was his doing.

Once she calmed, Zell plied her with whiskey and talked to her about the old crew, regaling her with stories about the Kinneas's trio of demonic little girls, and Irvine's gray hair. She laughed when Zell informed her they'd divorced and remarried six moths later, and he suspected it was only because Selphie wanted another party that was all about her.

Rinoa didn't ask about Squall, and Zell had the good sense not to bring him up.

Eventually, Rinoa passed out in an arm chair, her head tipped toward her shoulder and her hands folded in her lap.

"I'll put her to bed," Zell said.

"She's in the back bedroom," Seifer said.

Zell scooped her up and her head lolled against his shoulder as he lifted her and carried her into the back bedroom. Seifer went to the fridge for one last beer before they turned in and leaned against the counter as he opened it and took a swallow.

It was a good thing Zell was here. Not just for Seifer's sake, but Rinoa's too. Seifer didn't now how he would have handled her breakdown on his own.

Zell returned to the kitchen and leaned against the counter beside Seifer. He reached for the beer in Seifer's hand and Seifer scowled at him.

"Mine."

Zell snatched it anyway, took a long swallow and handed it back. Then, he crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at his shoes. A long moment of silence passed between them before Zell finally spoke.

"That was tough," Zell said.

"I guess you being here finally made it real."

"I still can't believe she's alive."

"Been feeling that way all week, man. I keep waking up, thinking I imagined the whole thing, and there she is."

"Thanks for looking out for her," Zell said. "You don't know how much I appreciate it."

"I owe her."

Zell dropped a hand against Seifer's back and Seifer hooked an arm around Zell's neck to bring him closer. He leaned his face into Zell's hair, then laughed softly.

"Hey, I can finally do this without putting out an eye."

"I knew you liked it."

""I missed your big, stupid chicken head."

It was sappy, but he meant it. Another big leap forward, admitting something he wouldn't normally dare say aloud.

"Thanks for inviting me," Zell said as Seifer let him go. "Been done for a long time, but being done for real? Feels good."

"I don't know how you put up with that shit for as long as you did," Seifer said.

"I kept hoping I would get back that feeling of family, you know?" Zell said. "Like, after everything that happened, that's the way it should have been. But it was never the same."

Seifer reached over and caressed the back of Zell's head without looking at him. He understood the longing for family. Zell had his Ma, but he spent more time at Garden, even as a kid, than he did at home.

Raijin and Fujin had been Seifer's family once, but Raijin was gone and Fujin, well, who knew if she'd ever get out. That family was lost to him. Edea was gone, and the others, the only one of them that mattered was Zell.

"Well, maybe this is a start," Seifer said. "We'll be a weird, dysfunctional family that drinks too much and has an extreme aversion to proper social behavior, to quote this guy I know."

"Sounds like a smart guy."

"Nah, he's kind of a shithead."

Zell laughed and punched Seifer in the arm. Seifer shoved him back.

"Another beer, or bed?" Seifer asked.

"Beer me."

Seifer reached for the fridge door, grabbed a pair of bottles and shoved Zell toward the bedroom anyway. Driven by lust and beer forgotten, they were half undressed before Seifer even kicked the door shut.

As Seifer pushed Zell toward the bed, a shriek sounded from the back bedroom, and a half-naked Zell was on the move before it even registered with Seifer. Seifer followed, hoping that Rinoa had only met one of the eight-legged vermin Zell was so fond of and was just overreacting spectacularly.

Zell opened the door and flicked on the light. Rinoa sat upright on the bed, pale faced, wide eyed and shaking. Seifer hung back as Zell went to her and put his arms around her.

"It's okay, Rin. Just a nightmare."

"What happened to Squall?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

* * *

For over three weeks, Squall didn't dream at all. He slept peacefully and comfortably with Liz beside him, and not once did he wake screaming or with Rinoa's name on his lips. The sweep of the second hand around the face of a clock no longer drove him over the edge, sounds stopped being a source of terror, and for the first time in years, Squall woke up rested almost every morning.

He held some cautious hope it meant the anti-anxiety meds the doctor prescribed were working, and he hoped they would continue to work and keep him from plunging into that dark chasm of terror he sensed during the worst of it. Maybe, his days and nights of misery were gone for good.

Seth wasn't dreaming anymore, or at least, he didn't wake up screaming and stopped talking about Rinoa. Squall dutifully went to the appointments with the child psychologist to appease Liz, and over the course of four sessions, Seth was evaluated.

At the end of the fourth session, the doctor called Liz and Squall into her office, while Seth played a video game with the receptionist in the waiting room.

"My initial findings are that Seth is an unusually perceptive child with a very developed imagination," Dr. Scott said. "He seems well adjusted and is _highly_ intelligent, so my impression is that these dreams are quite normal for a boy his age. I don't think you need to worry too much about them unless he's in clear distress, which he doesn't seem to be experiencing."

Unsatisfied with this answer, Liz repeated her concerns, which included a shortened, highly edited version of the place Rinoa once held in Squall's life.

"There's no way he could know about her," Liz said. "We don't talk about her, at all."

"As I said, he's unusually perceptive," Brandy said. "It's very likely he overheard someone talking about her and his imagination made up the rest."

"He knows details," Liz insisted. "Things he couldn't possibly know. Things _I_ didn't even know."

"Mrs. Leonhart, I understand your worry, but Seth doesn't seem to be suffering any I'll effects from these dreams," Dr. Scott said. "If I were you, I would look at this as an imaginary friend, which is very common in children his age, especially ones as smart as he is. Personally, I would recommend enrolling him in art or music classes to help channel that imagination and creativity."

Squall hadn't even considered Seth might latch onto the idea of Rinoa as an imaginary friend. It made sense, so long as he didn't think about the details. If he thought too hard, he would discredit the one thing that could explain it.

Liz wasn't happy with the assessment, but she reluctantly accepted it. Squall tried to reassure her, reiterating the doctor's words, but she brushed him off and went to grade papers while he started dinner.

It was strange being in the house, behaving as though he'd never left, but Liz didn't seem to mind. In spite of her requirement that he get over Rinoa first, she still invited him into her bed every night.

Squall couldn't go back to his sparse, sad little apartment, so made himself useful to her by cleaning out the garage, fixing things that needed to be fixed, mowing the yard, and cooking dinner on the nights that Liz was too busy to do more than throw something in the microwave.

He wasn't much of a cook, but there were a few, simple meals he could prepare, and he stuck with what he knew. Spaghetti was Seth's favorite, and Squall decided on that because it was easy. He put a pot of water on to boil, then dumped a jar of pasta sauce in another, and added extra mushrooms because Seth liked them.

In the freezer, he found a box of garlic bread and set it aside on the counter. As he turned back to the stove, something flickered in his peripheral vision. He turned toward it and jumped back as Seth, _not_ there and then_ there_, appeared beside the kitchen table.

Seth peered at Squall in grave but thoughtful silence as Squall blinked in confusion.

Just his imagination. Just a trick of light. That was all.

"What's up, buddy?" Squall asked.

"Is there something wrong with my brain?"

"No. Why would you think that?"

"Janie told me only crazy people go to head doctors."

Janie Kinneas was hopelessly cute, but she was also loud, wild, obnoxious and far more opinionated than any kid her age had a right to be. Irvine and Selphie let their girls run roughshod over everything and everyone, and while Selphie might think it was cute to let them hang from ceiling fans and blow things up in the back yard, no one else did.

"Janie is wrong," Squall said. "Your mom just wanted to make sure everything was okay. Kind of like when we go for check ups with Dr. Gallagher. Sometimes you have to check and make sure everything is working right."

Squall didn't want to get into the whole explanation about why people went to see psychologists, or why Liz wanted Seth to see a doctor. Squall didn't want Seth to think there was something wrong with him or feeling bad about himself for no good reason.

"So my brain works okay?"

"It works just fine, kiddo," Squall said. "In fact, the doctor told me she thinks you're very, very smart."

"I'm not smart," Seth said firmly. "Other kids are just dumb."

Squall thought the same thing for years. The stupidity of others drove him nuts. He didn't see himself as particularly intelligent, he just didn't have much patience for idiots.

But Seth _was_ smart. A month shy of his fifth birthday, Seth was already doing second grade level math, was already reading books for much older children, his vocabulary was impressive and there was a wisdom in him well beyond his years. The kid was brilliant, and that wasn't just Squall's opinion.

"You're smarter than some grown-ups I know," Squall said.

Seth shrugged him off and his dark expression darkened.

"Your mom and I were talking about letting you pick a class to take. Maybe art or music? What do you think?"

Seth thought about it. "Can I pick anything?"

"Whatever you want, buddy," Squall said and added a bit of garlic to the warming spaghetti sauce. "There are science classes too."

"I want to play piano," Seth said. "Like Rinoa and her mom."

Streaks of white-hot light flashed behind Squall's eyes and left him momentarily blinded. His fingers curled around the spoon in his hand and he struggled to reclaim his breath.

He couldn't acknowledge Seth's casual use of her name, or that he somehow knew she'd had years of music lessons.

He wouldn't. He _couldn't_.

Shaking, he turned toward his son, faked a smile and nodded.

"Good choice. Decide what you want for your birthday?"

"A dog."

That was not the answer Squall expected. He doubted Liz would let him have a pet unless it was a goldfish.

"I'll talk to your mom about it, okay?"

"'kay," Seth said.

Squall returned his attention to the stove. The sauce began to boil, and he reduced the heat, then preheated the oven for garlic bread.

"They think I'm weird," Seth said out of nowhere.

"Who thinks you're weird?" Squall asked as he glanced over his shoulder.

"The kids at school."

"Everybody's weird, Seth," Squall said. "And it's okay to be different from other people."

Seth thought about that as Squall dumped noodles into the pot of now boiling water. Hot steam enveloped Squall's head, and for a second, he thought he could hear particles of water vapor moving in the air around him, a soft hiss that made the hair on his arms stand up.

"Auntie Quistis isn't weird," Seth said.

"Trust me," Squall said. "She's weird, too. I'm weird. Your mom's weird. Aunt Selphie's _really_ weird. We're all just a bunch of weird weirdos, kiddo."

Squall expected Seth to laugh, but he didn't. He stood there and stared as though Squall knew nothing and couldn't possibly understand his plight.

"What's really bugging you, buddy?" Squall asked.

Seth didn't answer.

Squall to turned around and look at him. He hoped Seth didn't believe the visit to the psychologist as a sign something was wrong with him. He didn't want Seth to go through life thinking he was defective in any way. Squall knew first hand what that could do to a kid.

"Seth?"

"I don't know how to tell you," Seth said. "But I can show you."

Seth went to the cutlery drawer and removed all the forks, then carried them to the table and lined them up in a neat, evenly spaced row on a place mat.

"What are you doing, kiddo?"

"Just watch."

Seth waved his hand over the line of forks, palm flat. Goosebumps rose on Squall's arms though he wasn't sure what Seth was doing. The boy's deliberate motions were eerily similar to casting magic, just as it was with the paper plate in the park.

Which wasn't _possible_. Magic was damn near impossible to cast without the aid of GF's or a particular kind of sorcery.

Beneath Seth's palm, the forks shuddered on the table, and Squall's heart beat out a sickening rhythm in his chest. Behind him, the sauce bubbled over, but Squall couldn't take his eyes off his son.

One by one, the forks lifted off the table and hovered in a neat row above it. Seth drew a circle in the air and the forks rose higher and higher until they nearly touched the ceiling. One by one, they began to spin in a slow circle, and Squall was forced to grip the counter behind him, awed and terrified and sick to his stomach, unable to grasp what this was or how Seth was doing it.

Not once did Seth look at him. His eyes stayed on the ribbon of silver spinning under the kitchen's florescent lighting.

The spoons in the drawer next to Squall rattled and his palms began to sweat. One by one, the spoons rose into the air and whirled like shiny silver propellers. The butter knives joined them, and Squall stared in horror and awe as cutlery danced around the room, spinning and twirling under the light.

_I'm not really seeing this. I'm not. This can't be real._

Darkness pulsed around the edges of Squall's vision in time with his racing heart. The boiling water behind him was too loud and each bubble broke the surface with an eardrum shattering pop. His chest constricted and he couldn't seem to draw breath.

Slowly, he slid down the front of the stove to the floor and the darkness pulled at him, dragging him down into unconsciousness.

* * *

Rinoa spent her first three weeks with her new, dysfunctional, alcoholic, and socially awkward family alternately helping out with the renovation, learning T'ai Chi from Zell, how to drive from Seifer, and going out into the field near the house to practice her magic on monsters.

She was acutely aware of the power inside her, and it spiraled wildly out of control after that first awful nightmare of Squall, white haired, blank eyed and strapped to a hospital be- a dream Zell assured her wasn't real, but it felt like it was. She accidentally broke things without meaning to, and suffered through bouts of strange, uncontrollable panic that left her heart racing, her fingers tingling and her knees too weak to support her weight.

Blasting monsters out on the plains was the only thing that alleviated the panic, and there was an added bonus of generating some extra Gil, which she used to contribute to the household grocery bill. She moved into a smaller room at the front of the house with one window that faced the lighthouse and one that faced the front courtyard, and she used some of her monster bounty to decorate it with items purchased from the consignment store in town.

She tried not to feel melancholy. This was her new life, ten years gone, but thoughts of Squall crept in when she least expected them. The nightmares didn't help, either.

They were different every time. Sometimes, she searched for Squall through the ruined, crumbling walls of a decimated city. Sometimes, a little boy without a face guided her back to the field of flowers beyond the orphanage and she saw herself, old and sick and withered. Other times, a monster with her father's face chased her through Time Compression as a blank eyed Squall stared from the periphery.

Under the circumstances, Rinoa was as happy as she could be. Days were spent working, and evenings were for leisure. They watched movies and drank under the stars, laughed and told stories, poked fun at each other, and as long as Rinoa didn't let herself think about Squall, she was fine.

By the end of her fourth week back, her magic was under better control, her skin glowed with a tan from outdoor activities, and she thought she was ready to leave that old life behind. What else was there, but for her to move on and build a new life?

Seifer and Rinoa were not capable of preparing a meal that didn't involve dumping a can of soup in a pot or sticking two slices of bread in a toaster, so Zell cooked, and Rinoa and Seifer shared clean up duties. She didn't particularly enjoy washing dishes, but it was a fair trade for hot food that wasn't soup.

One morning, she sat down at the table and took a sip of her coffee, watching Zell assemble stacks of pancakes on three plates. He set one before her and sat down at the table as she tucked into her breakfast.

"You know," he said. "It might be a good idea to change your name, Rin. Just in case."

"You mean get a fake ID?"

"A whole new identity," Zell said. "Seifer knows a guy. He can set you up with everything from a birth certificate to a passport. All you have to do is pick a name and come up with a good back story."

Rinoa thought about that. Being someone else might help her move on. The idea intrigued her. She couldn't be Rinoa Heartilly anymore, under the circumstances. Rinoa Heartilly was dead. She could be anyone she wanted, anyone at all, but she would still be a Sorceress, no matter how good her invented name and story.

"Pick something common," Seifer said as he came into the kitchen and grabbed his plate from the counter. "Something easy for you to remember, but generic enough that it doesn't stand out. And completely unrelated to your family."

"So Julia's out, huh?" she asked.

"It's pretty common, but you look like her, so no," Seifer said.

"How about Lenore?" she asked. "That's pretty common, right? Especially in Galbadia."

"That could work," Zell said.

"Think about it and get back to me," Seifer said. "No need to decide right now."

They ate their breakfast, and discussed their plans for the day. Rinoa would finish painting the trim outside, and Seifer and Zell were replacing the stone floor in the big back room with fragrant cedar planks that filled the house with a warm, homey scent.

"Your turn for dishes," Seifer said, smirking as he pushed away an empty plate.

Inspiration hit her as she cleared the remaining dishes, and she waved her hand over the table and watched with amusement as the dishes rose into the air. With a gentle flourish, she pointed at the sink, and grinned in delight as they set themselves neatly in the basin one at a time. Not a single item fell or broke and Rinoa surveyed the sink with pride.

Zell broke into a big smile, but Seifer's gaze was guarded and wary. It didn't occur to her that the display might make him uncomfortable until now, and she cast him a sheepish smile

"Too bad you can't make them wash themselves," Seifer said after a moment.

As she turned on the water to wash the dishes, a swell of desperate panic rose in her chest, and she was forced to lean against the cabinet for support. For just a second, there was an image in her head of whirling bits of silver under fluorescent lights, and then Squall's voice.

_...this can't be real._

* * *

Squall woke up in the hospital, unsure of why he was there. Liz stared at him from a chair by the window, her mascara smudged from crying. It was dark outside, and a glance at the clock over the door revealed it was a little past two in the morning.

"What the hell, Liz?"

"You blacked out again."

The last thing he remembered was talking to Seth.

Seth, and his dancing silverware.

Squall shuddered against a rising tide of panic at the memory of Seth's eerie, blank gaze.

"What happened?" she asked.

Squall didn't want to tell her what he'd seen. She would think him crazy. If, by chance, she actually believed him, she would drag Seth from doctor to doctor in a panic and make herself and Seth miserable in the process. As bizarre and confusing as the incident was, Squall didn't want that for either of them.

"I don't know," he lied. "Maybe it's the anxiety medication."

Liz accepted that answer without reservation, but it did nothing for Squall's concerns.

Where the hell did Seth learn to levitate things? Squall never taught him magic of any kind, and Liz's experience was limited to her grandmother's healing and she never learned herself. What Squall witnessed was some form of powerful float magic, capable of not just levitation, but manipulation as well.

Manipulation was something that only a exceptionally skilled mage or a Sorceress could do. For the average, unjunctioned person, it was an almost impossible feat. Hell, casting regular magic was nearly impossible for a layman unless one was gifted with an inborn elemental magic, like Seifer and his fire-chi.

"Liz, is Laguna here?"

"He's out in the hall. Why?"

"I need to see him. Privately."

Squall never requested Laguna's company voluntarily, but Laguna was the only one he could trust to help him figure out what was going on with Seth, and he had the resources to do so.

Laguna didn't even try to hide his surprise when he entered Squall's room. He pulled a chair close to the bed, sat, and winced as he massaged his leg. Squall shut down his natural hostility and searched for the right words to explain this without sounding like a lunatic.

"Hiya, son," Laguna said. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Squall said automatically. "You?"

"Never better," Laguna said. "I'm almost unpacked, and I set up big play room for Seth for when he comes to visit. You should come by and see the place when you get the chance."

While Squall wasn't thrilled Laguna chose to retire in Balamb, it was Laguna's decision and there was nothing Squall could do to stop him, nor did he care enough to try.

"Sounds great," Squall said. "Listen, are you still in touch with Dr. Odine?"

"Sure," Laguna said. "He calls from time to time to tell me I'm an idiot for retiring. He's not very happy about it. Kiros cut Odine's operating budget in half after he was elected, and he's raising hell. Why do you ask?"

"I need to speak with him," Squall said. "As soon as possible."

"Is there something I should be worried about?"

"No, I just need to ask a few questions."

"Would this be about Seth?"

Startled, Squall eyed his father and wondered what he had seen or what Seth might have said.

"How did you know?"

Laguna rubbed the back of his neck, in need of a minute to figure out what he was going to say.

"The other day, in the park, he turned flower petals into butterflies," Laguna said. "Just like that. And when I asked him where he learned it, he said _Rinoa_ gave him her magic."

Darkness tugged at him again, with a peculiar sensation like falling, plummeting down, at the mercy of gravity.

_Keep it together, Leonhart. Keep it together._

Squall took a slow, deep breath, his eyes closed and he focused on the sound of the second hand ticking on his watch. Steady and rhythmic, the seconds swept him forward until he could breathe again. When he opened his eyes, Laguna was watching him.

"Does Liz know?"

"I didn't have the heart to tell her," Laguna said. "I didn't even know what to make of it. It was a neat trick, but it scared the daylights out of me."

Squall nodded his agreement.

"He also keeps telling me that you need to go get her," Laguna said. "He's pretty upset that you don't believe him."

"How can I?" Squall asked. "For one, it's been too long. Two, he's not even five years old and can't possibly know that. And three, if by some miracle she was back, the first thing she would do is come looking for us."

"We don't know anything about time compression or how it works, Squall," Laguna said, countering his point. "And Seth shouldn't be able to do what I saw him do."

"And Rinoa?"

"Try reaching out to her," Laguna suggested. "See if she answers."

Squall didn't want to do that, afraid he really _would_ find her on the other side and get a response.

"I just want to put all that in the past," Squall said. "All of it. I need to find out what's going on with my son."

"Well, I can get in touch with Odine, but honestly...I'd rather not," Laguna said. "There's another option. Odine has an estranged prodigy. She's young but brilliant, and besides Odine, there's no one on the planet who knows more about this stuff. I'll try her first. Odine's a last resort, unless you'd like to see your old man fisticuffs with an ancient, demented psychopath."

"Actually, I think I'd pay to see that," Squall admitted, and almost smiled.

Laguna smiled back.

"She'll be discreet, and even better, she's not insane," Laguna said. "Though, she's a bit clinical and has no sense of humor. Never laughs at my jokes."

_Who does?_

"Can you get in touch with her?"

"I'll give her a call tonight," Laguna said.

"Thanks," Squall said. "Just don't tell Liz about any of this. Please. She's already upset. I don't want to make it worse."

* * *

Zell's sharp cry of distress in the middle of the night woke Seifer from a sound sleep. Drowsily, Seifer reached for him and his hand found Zell's back, damp and sticky with sweat. Under his palm, Zell's heart raced, his breaths came in sharp bursts, and Seifer wrapped a hand around Zell's bicep and gave it a gentle tug.

"Come here, shithead."

Zell flopped back down into the pillows with a soft groan. This wasn't the first time Zell woke up screaming. Seifer almost expected it now, but it still alarmed him. Whatever Zell's demons, they woke him at least twice a week.

Seifer was no stranger to nightmares, though his days of waking covered in sweat with a scream in his throat were long past. Guilt still nagged at him from time to time, but he distanced himself enough that it just a dull ache rather than a raw, open wound. Talking about it to Zell all those years ago eased Seifer's burdened conscience, and eventually the bad dreams didn't come so often.

Zell once said it was ironic Seifer was the one behind bars, the one with nightmares, considering what SeeD was and what they did. Seifer didn't ask what he meant until months later.

"You know how many missions I've been on?" Zell asked. "One hundred and two in seven years. Fifty-five of them involved killing at least one person, but usually a lot more than just one. Do the math, Almasy."

Counting the war, it meant Zell's number of kills likely exceeded Seifer's. Even if it hit the low end of Seifer's estimate, it was still a significant enough number that Seifer was forced to consider Zell's earlier words to him: _You're not the only one who lives with guilt..._

Back in the present, Seifer slid a hand between Zell's legs and took hold of him as he pressed a kiss to Zell's lips. Seifer might not know what to say, but he sure as hell knew how to ease the man's tension.

It worked, too. Zell's panicky breaths eased into gasps of pleasure and his lips and hands moved with characteristic eagerness, reciprocating Seifer's touch.

Zell was calm as a puddle after, and he lay on his side, all the stiffness gone from his shoulders as Seifer massaged the back of his neck.

"Better?"

"Mmm. Yep."

"These nightmares aren't some ploy to get pity hand-jobs, are they?" Seifer half teased.

Zell cracked open an eye and laughed weakly.

"As if I need pity as an excuse," he murmured.

Seifer snorted. "Hmm. True."

Rain drummed on the roof and tapped softly against the windowpane, a rhythmic cadence that lulled Seifer towards sleep. Lazily, he brushed his lips over Zell's temple as Zell settled into the pillow.

"It never fucking goes away," Zell muttered.

Seifer, dragged back from the edge of slumber, turned onto his side so he could see Zell's face in the darkness. Zell didn't look at him, just closed his eyes and let out a heavy, shaky breath.

"I keep seeing their faces," Zell said. "All those kids."

That last mission did something to Zell, and he couldn't seem to shake it. It was a switch from the usual murder-for-hire job or scavenging expedition, but in Seifer's opinion, an assassination would have been easier and less damaging in the long run. Nothing could have prepared Zell for a dig through rubble for bodies, and Seifer didn't think he could do the same without losing his shit, either. Only someone without a heart could come away a job like that unscathed.

"You had nightmares after the war," Zell said. "How did you deal with it?"

"Having your ass show up to listen to me rant about them helped."

"Hmm."

Seifer reached out and ran his fingers through Zell's much shorter hair, prompting a tired hum that almost sounded like contentment.

"Do you need to talk about it, shithead?"

"I just want it to stop," Zell said. "I know it's not my fault. I just... Can't _stop_ seeing their faces."

Seifer was not a nurturer, not a guy given to care much about other people's problems, but it mattered that Zell was almost as haunted as Seifer. There was something missing, like that mission took away essential parts of who Zell Dincht was. Sometimes, he wished he could reach inside Zell's head and find all those broken pieces and put them back together, just so he wouldn't have to see the ghosts of kids who couldn't be saved in Zell's eyes.

"I didn't tell you I quit SeeD because of that mission."

"You didn't have to."

Zell shifted away from him, but didn't retreat entirely, his eyes focused on something far, far away.

"I can kinda get why Squall did it, you know. Tried to kill himself," Zell said. "One more mission and it could have been me."

"Don't say shit like that," Seifer snapped.

"It's true."

"Bullshit," Seifer said. "That's wuss talk."

"It's the truth."

Seifer propped himself up on his elbow and turned Zell's face toward him.

"You wouldn't really do that, right?" he asked. "'Cause if you're thinking about offing yourself -"

"I'm not, I just kinda get how he got to that place."

"If you ever get to that place," Seifer said, "tell me, so I can knock some sense back into your thick, stupid head."

Seifer's unkind words were undermined by his tone, a little too desperate, a little too kind, and Zell laughed softly as he read between the lines.

"You're such an ass, Almasy."

"Yeah, but you love me anyway."

Seifer cringed. That was not what he meant to say. Love was not a word Seifer used, or even liked much, and it was a sentimental platitude that didn't belong in their arrangement. He was fond of Zell, and empathetic to his struggle with his own demons, but love? It didn't compute. It was too small a word for the complicated thing they were, and Seifer was a monumental idiot for saying it.

"Maybe a little bit," Zell said tiredly. "I also love kicking your ass a little bit, too."

A strange warmth spread through Seifer's chest.

_Maybe a little bit_.

Maybe.

* * *

Zell couldn't sleep. Seifer lay beside him, snoring quietly with his face half buried in the pillow, his hard, angular features softened by slumber. It was the only time Seifer looked truly at peace, the only time when his past struggles didn't show.

Sometimes, he wondered at how _easy_ this was, when their past relationship was anything but. If it was just sex, Zell could wrap his head around the reasons. He wasn't a stranger to purely physical relationships, but if that part went away, Zell would still want Seifer's company.

Every now and then, Seifer asked why Zell bothered to visit him in prison. At first, it was all about getting answers to questions no one else could give. Beyond that, Zell couldn't honestly say. His declaration that he would want someone to visit him, even someone he disliked, was only half true, but he never understood his own reasons for doing it.

When early dawn lightened the window, Zell got up and dressed to go for a run. The morning air was cool and heavy with mist as Zell ran five miles down the narrow dirt road that led back to Capetown, his pace intense in hopes of burning off the lingering distress of the nightmare.

By the time he returned to the house, ten miles under his belt, the sun was up and his head was clear. In the kitchen, he put on a pot of coffee for Rinoa and jumped in the shower.

Clean, refreshed and ready for the day, he returned to the kitchen to find Rinoa half-sleepwalking through the kitchen, lured by the scent of coffee. He thought of Zombies, shambling toward the scent of fresh meat.

"Brrraaaiinnnzz" he teased. "Brraainnzzz!

"Shut your pie hole, Dincht," she muttered.

"Boy, you're starting to sound a lot like Seifer," Zell remarked.

"The price of teasing before I've had my coffee," she said. "Still love you, though."

Zell smiled and dropped a kiss on her cheek. "Love you too."

He got the flavored creamer from the fridge and set it on the counter as she filled the largest mug in the house full of freshed brewed energy. She took it to the table and hovered over it as if Zell planned to steal it, took a long sip and sighed in contentment.

"Much better," she said. "You guys shouldn't let me drink so much."

"Part of the family motto, my friend," he said, "and a requirement if you live at Almasy's Den of Sin. Want some breakfast?"

"I'll make some toast later," she said and added a yawn. "Caffeine first."

He was about to ask if she wanted to continue their T'ai-chi lessons when his phone rang. He almost didn't answer, since the only person who called before he called them was Selphie. For the last week, she rang twice a day, and Zell ignored it. He didn't have the attention span or inclination to spend an hour on the phone listening to her detail her latest list of grievances against Irvine.

But it wasn't Selphie, it was Quistis. He considered letting it go to messaging, but answered anyway and stepped outside, leaving Rinoa to her caffeine.

"S'up?" he said.

"Hey," she said. "Just calling to check in. We haven't heard from you in a while."

"I'm good," he said. "Just helping Seifer with the remodel. It's coming along nice, Quis. You should see the place. It's starting to look the way it did when we were kids."

"Maybe I'll come out some time," she said.

"Yeah, let me know," he said and then winced. With Rinoa there, that was not such a great idea. "So what's going on?"

"Well, I called for a couple of reasons," she said. "One, next week is the ten year anniversary of Ultimecia's defeat and... Rinoa. Selphie organized a last minute celebration and a memorial and she's been trying to get in touch with you."

"I know. Didn't answer."

"I figured," Quistis said. "She really wants you to come."

"I don't know," he said slowly, thinking about how strange it would be to mourn someone who wasn't actually dead, and be the only person in the room who knew that. "Can I think about it?"

"Zell. You're the one who had a vigil every year, even when no one showed up."

He sighed. "All right. I'll be there."

"Call Selphie for the details. _Please_ call her," Quistis said. "I know you're in love and all, but try not to blow us off, okay?"

"Okay, I'll give her a call later," he agreed. "So what was the other thing?"

"Squall's in the hospital again," she said. "He's having black-outs. They think the anxiety meds caused it."

"Is he going to be okay?" Zell asked.

"He'll be fine, but he was supposed to go back to work on Monday, and now..." she paused. "He may have to resign, Zell. The board isn't taking this lightly. Half of them are already pushing for his immediate release."

"Shit," Zell said. "What will he do if that happens?"

"I'm trying to push to keep him on as an instructor," Quistis said, "but I don't know. SeeD is all he knows. Hell, it's all any of us know."

"Yeah," Zell said softly. "I hear that."

"So, on a different note, how is your retirement going?" she asked. "Do you miss it?"

"Not at all," he said honestly. "I miss you guys, but the job? Not even a little bit."

"And how are things going with Seifer?"

Zell thought back to Seifer's casual use of the word _love_ earlier and his cheeks warmed. He didn't want to read too much into it, but he couldn't help the excited little pang of happiness he got just thinking about it.

"Good," he said honestly. "Really good."

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around this to be perfectly honest," she said. "But I'm glad you're happy. Even if I wish it was someone else-"

"Quistis."

"I know," she said. "It's not my place to judge. I'm sorry."

"No, it isn't," he said. "I know you don't get it, but you have no idea how... _kind_ he can be when he wants to be."

"_Kind_ and _Seifer_ don't seem like they belong in the same sentence. Are you sure we're talking about the same person?"

Zell chuckled. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Then, I'm really happy for both of you. Really."

There was an uncomfortable pause as they both struggled to find something to say.

"You're still coming to the wedding, right?" she asked.

"Wouldn't miss it," he promised.

"Why don't you bring Seifer?"

"Well, for starters, you're the only one that knows," Zell said. "And I don't know if he'd be welcome."

"I'm inviting him, so he'll be welcome. Think about it, okay?" she said. "Maybe seeing you together might convince me."

"I doubt he'll want to go, but," he said, "I'll let you know."

He pocketed his phone, trying to picture Seifer at Quistis' wedding. He shook his head at the thought and went back inside to wake Seifer up.

* * *

Squall was released from the hospital two days later with a new prescription and a stern warning to notify Dr. Gallagher if he suffered any ill side-effects. Like last time, Laguna picked him up, but this time Squall wasn't irritated with him, but rather with Liz.

Liz decided that it was best for Seth if Squall spent less time at the house. Squall disagreed.

He didn't want to go back to his apartment, so he reluctantly accepted Laguna's offer to stay at the new house because being alone no longer appealed to him, nor did he trust himself to be alone.

Squall's whole life was coming apart at the seams. Quistis informed him earlier in the day the board was going to release him from duty, pending a hearing. Too unstable, they said. Unfit for duty.

He couldn't disagree. His professional, put-together, all-business facade had all but crumbled and now everyone knew that the cheese slipped off the metaphorical cracker. He was lost and wildly unbalanced and he half-wondered if staying with Laguna was a sign that the elevator didn't go to the top floor anymore. In his right mind, he never would have agreed to this arrangement.

Laguna's new home was only four miles from the center of town, but as far as Squall was concerned, it could have been a continent away. It sat alone on the top of a high cliff, surrounded by an ornate iron and stone fence seven feet high and topped with sharp spikes that would keep even the bravest souls from attempting to climb. The house itself didn't match the fence, and was more modern, made of wood and glass.

Squall followed Laguna inside, limping as they stepped into an open floor plan style living area. The different sections were separated only by low shelves filled with plants and stacks of books. Natural light spilled in from the wall-to-wall window at the back that faced the sea.

Laguna opened one of the doors leading out to the deck to let in the salty ocean breeze and Squall stepped outside to take in the view. He went to the edge and looked over the rail at the turquoise sea, then down at the steep, rocky cliff below. It was at least a sixty-foot drop, from where Squall stood to the water.

For a second, he wondered what it would feel like to fall from that height.

Then, a sense of vertigo swept over him, so powerful, he was forced to take a step back.

"I haven't been able to look over the edge yet," Laguna said. "Fell off a cliff like this once a long time ago."

"I know," Squall said. "Faeries. Remember?"

"Right," Laguna said. "Sometimes, I forget how much Ellone showed you."

"She ever show you my life?"

"Once," Laguna said. "Nothing really important. Training."

Training was probably the most interesting part about his life when he was younger. Everything else would have been really boring, since Squall didn't talk to many people, and what he might have said essentially amounted to a couple of _whatevers_ and maybe a _none of your business_.

"I was impressed, though," Laguna said. "And sad."

"I thought you were such a moron," Squall admitted. "All that running around, getting lost, your stupid jokes."

Laguna laughed.

"Well, I can't blame you for that," Laguna said. "People tend to underestimate you when they think you're a moron."

"So it was a tactical decision," Squall said.

"Mostly it was just to make people laugh..."

His father turned serious, his green eyes soft and sad. Squall braced himself for a possible outpouring of emotion, something he didn't need right now.

"Maybe we can talk a little later," Laguna said. "About things."

"What things?"

"Anything," Laguna said. "There's so much about you I still don't know. And we've never really talked about your mother. I have pictures, if you want to see..."

Squall swallowed around the lump in his throat and looked back at the ocean.

"I can't handle that right now," Squall finally said. "Maybe soon, but right now, I just can't."

He pressed a hand to his face in attempt to hold back the back-building grief inside him. Laguna was the last person he wanted to lose it in front of.

"Everything's going to be okay, son."

Laguna's hand fell upon his shoulder, and Squall's hold on himself broke. It burst forth in one harsh sob that he tried and failed to stifle with the palm of his hand.

He didn't resist when Laguna guided him to a reclining chair on the deck and made him sit. Sick with grief and confusion and desperate, agonizing longing for a thing he couldn't touch, Squall sobbed into his palms because the alternative was screaming. And if he started screaming, he feared he would never stop.

"We'll get through this, son," Laguna said. "Okay? You and me. We'll get through this. We'll get through it."

Laguna kept repeating it, as if trying to convince him. It did nothing to chase away the manic terror of losing his mind. And it did not bring back the one thing in the world he wanted and needed most.


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

* * *

Rinoa lounged in a chair on the deck, a book in her lap while Seifer and Zell took swings at one another. They were bare-knuckle boxing, shirts off, in gym shorts, no shirts, bare feet, two good-looking, muscular, sweaty men beating the crap out of each other for fun.

Between the laughter, the occasional howl of pain and the vulgar insults, Rinoa couldn't concentrate. She wasn't immune to the sight of hot guys participating in manly contact sports. Their physiques were vastly different – one lean and narrow, the other short and bulky, but both cut like stone.

They weren't holding back. Their punches left red welts on each other's skin and chafed their knuckles, but neither seemed bothered by pain.

When Seifer caught her staring at his broad, powerful shoulders, his eyebrow hitched up and he grinned, and at the same moment Zell's fist slammed into his side. Zell followed up with a hard cross to Seifer's face and Seifer stumbled backward, the heel of his hand pressed to his eye, grimacing from the force of Zell's blow.

"Shit," Seifer growled through clenched teeth. "That really fucking hurt."

"Lemmie see it, cry baby," Zell said, laughing.

Zell took Seifer by the wrist and lifted his hand away from his face. Already, Seifer's eye was swelling, and Rinoa got up, prepared to use her magic to repair the damage they'd done to one another. It wouldn't be the first time and she was sure it wouldn't be the last.

"I got it, Rin," Zell said. "Go get some ice, would you?"

"You hit like a fucking anvil," Seifer complained.

"You're the idiot who wanted to fight me," Zell said. "Suck it up."

Rinoa went inside to the kitchen, opened the freezer and gathered a few ice cubes from the tray. Out of nowhere, Squall murmured something in her ear, so close, she could almost feel his breath against her skin. Rinoa spun around in search of the source, but she was all alone in the kitchen.

She sank to the floor, the cabinets at her back, ice cube clutched in her palm. The room around her shifted, her view not of the battered floor and peeling wallpaper, but of a turquoise sea below a high, rocky cliff, and she wondered what it would feel like to jump from that height.

Struck with an intense vertigo, Rinoa shot to her feet and backed away from the edge before she fell. Her hips met the kitchen counter and the vision dissolved, the ice cube still clutched in her palm.

_Come back. You were right. I can't do this on my own._

"Rin?" Zell called from the doorway. "Got an ETA on that ice?"

She looked up at him with wide eyes, scared to death that what she'd just seen and heard was real.

"Why would Squall want to jump off a cliff?" she asked in a small voice.

Zell's face drained of color and he leaned heavily against the door frame, one hand reaching up to rough up his already roughed up hair.

"Zell."

"Hang on, let me take care of Seifer first, okay?" he said. "He's being a big baby about it."

Rinoa sat on the floor, trembling as she watched Zell fill a baggie with some ice. Seifer entered the kitchen, scowling, one hand still pressed to his eye.

"Shit," Seifer swore. "Did you have to hit me so hard?"

"Stop being such a wuss," Zell said as he slapped the bag of ice into Seifer's hand. "Mayday, Almasy."

"What?"

"We gotta tell her, man. About Squall."

"What about him?"

Rinoa wondered the same thing. _What about him?_ What was happening, and why was there a deep, soul crushing agony inside her chest that was not her own? Why was she filled with panic and fear?

"What he tried to do a while back."

"Why the fuck would you want to tell her that?" Seifer asked.

"Because..." he said, turning back to Rinoa. "Ask him what you just asked me."

"Why would Squall want to jump off a cliff?"

"Shit..."

They left something out, maybe something important. Things were not exactly as they seemed, and she was afraid of what Squall might have done to himself. Even if he was ten years removed from the Squall she knew, she was afraid for him.

Zell helped her up and into the living room, where he sat her down on the couch dropped onto the cushion next to her. He ran a hand through his hair again and stared at the battered wood floor.

"He tried to kill himself, Rin. He chased a bunch of pills with vodka."

Her heart sputtered and her vision blurred. Her fingers dug into the couch cushion, and she wanted to scream at him for keeping something so important a secret, but her voice and her breath were gone.

The Squall she knew would never try to end it himself. Not ever. There was too much fight and pride in him to give up, and he proved over and over, Squall Leonhart didn't go down without a fight. What happened in the time she was gone to bring him so low?

"You should have told me."

"We didn't tell you because it felt like too much for you to deal with all at once," Zell said.

Seifer dropped into a recliner, the ice bag against his face, but he let it fall away it to look at her.

"Did he do this because of me?" she asked.

"No," Zell said. "It's not because of you. He's just had a really rough go of it lately."

"He's not better now, though, is he?" she asked and stood up. "If he's thinking about jumping off a damned cliff..."

She needed to go, to Balamb, and make sure he was okay. He said he couldn't do it alone and she sensed how desperately he needed help. She would pack a bag, get on a train and go to him, consequences be damned.

"Sit down," Seifer said. "Please."

"He needs me, doesn't he?" she asked in a panic. "I can feel it. He _needs_ me, and I'm not there."

"Do you know what's going to happen if you go back there, Rin?" Seifer asked.

"I don't care! I can't let him do this to himself."

"You should care, because you'll wind up spending the rest of your life on the run," Seifer said. "And if they catch you, you'll be sealed or killed. Being a Sorceress is bad enough, but reappearing after being gone ten years? They're not going to be kind about it."

The rational part of her knew he was right. Seifer understood this better than anyone, but he also had to understand that Squall _needed_ her.

"He didn't actually jump, did he?" Zell asked.

"No. I backed away... And so did he," she murmured. "I made him stop."

Rinoa might not have changed his mind, but her sense of vertigo forced him back away from the edge. For just that instant, Rinoa influenced his actions, and maybe even saved his life, but her heart still ached for him, and for the pain he was in.

"Rin, I'm going to be totally honest with you here," Zell said. "I don't think you going back would be good for him right now. He's been hospitalized twice, he's about to lose his job and I don't think he'll handle you popping up out of nowhere after ten years all that well."

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked. "Pretend I'm not seeing this? Pretend I don't hear him?"

"You hear him?" Seifer asked, eyes full of alarm.

She nodded.

"Whatever you do, Rin," Seifer said slowly, "do not respond back, okay? He believes you're dead, so if he reaches out and finds you there, he's going think he's lost his fucking mind, and he might actually jump next time."

Rinoa stared, only half-processing what Seifer said. Next time. _Next time_. There wouldn't be a next time if she was there to stop him.

"Do you understand what I'm saying to you? It won't help him any to know you're alive right now," Seifer said. "In fact, I think it might make it worse."

Maybe, she was the reason he'd fallen apart. He was a Knight to a Sorceress the whole world believed dead, one he probably believed dead. They were still connected somehow, and he must have felt her from time to time, the same what she felt him. Maybe, he'd gone mad because he couldn't let her go and didn't understand why.

Wasn't that enough of a reason to let him in on the truth?

"So what do I do?" she asked.

"We'll figure something out, okay?" Zell said. "Just don't go running off to save him until we figure out a way to break it to him without sending him to the loony bin."

* * *

For three days, Squall barely got out of bed. He lay at the foot of the mattress, curled up on his side and watched the sea and clouds beyond the big, picture window with blank, empty eyes.

Laguna didn't know what to do about it, and he didn't pretend to understand what was going on, or why Squall was so disconnected from everything going on around him. One of the possible side effects of the new anxiety medication was apathy and exhaustion. Squall was so far beyond apathetic he'd become despondent, and he wasn't sleeping at all. He just lay there, staring out at nothing, silent and unmoving on the end of the bed.

If this kept up, Laguna would have to do something drastic.

They weren't close, but Squall agreeing to stay was a big step in the right direction. Drastic measures might compromise that small measure of progress and further damage their rocky relationship. But Squall wasn't healthy, and whatever this was, it was killing him slowly. Laguna might have no choice but to snap him out of it or take him somewhere that could help him.

Laguna almost called the hospital twice, and Liz a dozen and a half more, but he didn't. Instead, he sat beside his son and stroked his hair while he told stories about his exploits with Kiros and Ward. He barely knew what he was saying as he filled the silence with nonsense.

"How am I supposed to help you?" Laguna murmured. "I don't know what to do. Cuchi-cuchi treatment, maybe?"

Laguna put his hand on Squall's shoulder and squeezed gently. Squall just blinked at the sky.

"I know you're in there son," Laguna said. "Please, please come back. _Please_. You'll get through this, just please come back. Seth needs you. I need you. Please."

At the mention of Seth, a clarity came to Squall's eyes that hadn't been there before. It faded almost as quickly as it appeared, but Laguna now knew what might bring Squall out of this semi-catatonic funk he was in.

"You're a great father, Squall. Better than I would have been," Laguna said. "But now you have to get up and get on with it so you can help Seth grow up to be as strong as you are."

Squall's eyes followed the drifting clouds, but there was more life in them than Laguna had seen for days.

"I love you, son," Laguna said. "I wish you would talk to me."

Squall sniffled and clasped his hand around Laguna's forearm. Laguna covered Squall's hand with his own, encouraged by the contact. It was if Squall was reaching out, asking for help the only way he knew how.

"What can I do?" Laguna asked. "Do I need to take you to the hospital?"

Squall shook his head, a firm negative.

"You're not leaving me much of a choice here," Laguna said. "I can't help you any other way if you don't talk to me."

"...I …Just..."

It was the first time in three days Squall said a word.

"What?" Laguna asked. "You just what?"

"I keep feeling her there, in my head," Squall said, his voice flat and distant. "Seeing her, hearing her voice, and her laugh... And Seth, talking about her like he knows her. It's like, she's alive somewhere and it's killing me."

Years ago, Laguna figured it out without being told what happened, and his heart ached for the boy who lost his innocence to war and his youth in service to a Sorceress everyone believed dead. Laguna grieved for the man brought low by a bond he couldn't break. If Laguna needed any evidence Rinoa was still alive somewhere, it was this.

"Maybe she _is_ alive, Son."

"Why won't she let me go?"

Squall's childlike tone hurt Laguna's heart. He gripped his son tighter and buried his forehead against the top of Squall's head to keep from bawling.

"Do you want her to let you go?"

"_Yes_," Squall said. "No. I just want _her_. And I want it to stop. I can't breathe."

Squall sat forward, breaking from Laguna's embrace, his face pressed into his hands.

"Try reaching out to her."

"I'm afraid..."

"Of what?"

"That she'll answer me."

* * *

Squall closed his eyes and let his mind seek her out, something he never allowed himself to do before. There was a sharp pull from the other side, a soft whisper he somehow recognized after ten years, and a sensation like fingertips against his cheek. Squall let it go, pushed back against it, and sat up, sick and afraid because she was out there somewhere and she felt him too.

"I can't," he breathed. "I don't want to."

"You need to know, don't you?" Laguna asked. "The truth might hurt, but it's better than this, isn't it?"

"What if it's not?"

"I would think not knowing hurts worse," Laguna said. "Don't you?"

"I can't. If she's out there, I don't think I'll be able to..."

Squall couldn't articulate his thoughts. If Rinoa answered his call, he didn't think he would come back from it with his sanity intact. He hated the sound of his own voice, the desperation, the fear. Squall Leonhart was a SeeD, a decorated warrior and veteran of too many battles to count, yet he feared a girl ten years in the grave.

"I believe with all my heart, it will be the opposite," Laguna said. "Give it another try."

Squall reached out again, and hesitated as he felt her there. He closed his eyes as the room around him faded, and his mind was full of sounds and images from somewhere else.

_A view of a dirt road through a dirty windshield and a soft breeze scented with brine and something like dry hay._

_Delicate hands on a steering wheel. A hearty baritone laugh that was both familiar and unfamiliar._

_Her voice._

"_Do you love him?"_

"_That's a loaded question."_

Squall recognized the man's voice from somewhere, but couldn't place it. Whether this was past or present or just imagination, Squall wasn't sure. Did Rinoa know how to drive? Had she driven during the war? He couldn't remember.

He sought some point of reference, some landmark to give a location, a _when_ or a _where_ she could be, but it was just a view of a dirt road through a field, date and place unknown.

"_Either you do or you don't."_

"_You can't always define things on a yes or no basis, Rin. It isn't always that easy."_

"_Are you afraid to say it because you think you might love him more than he loves you?"_

"_Why the fuck would you think that?"_

That voice... Seifer?

It could be, but Squall wasn't sure. The last time Squall set eyes on his old rival was Seifer's trial, and Seifer said almost nothing for the duration. When he did speak, his voice was flat and without inflection and unlike the Seifer Squall once knew well.

"_Because I see the way you are with him when you don't think I'm looking, and it looks a lot like love to me."_

"_You're still a kid. Your concept of love comes from bullshit movies and books."_

"_I know what love is, and I know it when I see it, and you're in love with him. Admit it."_

"_I'm afraid he's going to leave. What you see... is me making sure he has a reason to stay."_

The conversation didn't make sense. Who were they talking about? And when was this? Now? Or before Squall met her? He couldn't tell and pushed further into her mind, willing her to feel him there, to answer and acknowledge him.

The truck jolted to a stop, and the man exclaimed in annoyance.

"_What the fuck, Rin?"_

"_He's here..."_

"_What?"_

"_Squall. I can feel him."_

"_Rin..."_

"_I'm sorry. This is for your own good..."_

She pushed back and slammed the door on his view of... wherever, whenever this was, and Squall nearly jumped off the bed at the abrupt dismissal. A wave of dizziness forced him to sit back down. Three days of not eating much left him weak and tired, and he struggled to catch his breath as Laguna watched in silence.

Rinoa existed somewhere. Either in this time, or a different one, but she was as alive as he was.

Perhaps she'd gone too far back in the past and got stuck there, or found herself too far ahead in the future, but her heart still beat, she still drew breath, and she felt him too.

Laguna wasn't wrong. Knowing did help, Squall just wasn't sure _what_ it helped. If Rinoa wasn't present in this time, there was nothing Squall could do, and it would help nothing in the long run, but at least now he was sure she was not a figment of his imagination.

"Why don't you jump in the shower and I'll make you something to eat?" Laguna suggested. "Liz is bringing Seth by in an hour so she can run some errands."

A part of him wanted to curl up on the bed and sleep, but Seth couldn't see him this way. Or Liz. She already limited his time with Seth enough and he didn't want to give her a reason to cut him off completely.

On shaky legs, he went to the bathroom and turned on the shower but wound up sitting under the stream of hot water when he became too dizzy to stand. He stayed there for a while and let the water pour over him as he scrubbed away days worth of grime and let the warmth clear the fog in his head.

In the kitchen, Laguna waited with a stack of grilled cheese sandwiches and big bowl of vegetable soup. Squall wasn't hungry, but sat down and ate anyway. Laguna watched every bite, his gaze unusually shrewd and sharp, and to appease him, Squall forced down a second helping.

"Dr. Mara called me back while you were in the shower," Laguna said.

"Who?"

"The doctor I told you about," Laguna said. "She's pretty excited to meet Seth, and she's willing to come here instead of making us meet her in her lab."

"Did she have any thoughts about what's going on?" Squall asked.

"Just said that Seth sounds like a very unusual and special case," Laguna said. "She can't really say more until she meets him."

"How soon can she get here?"

"I told her to come Tuesday, since Liz will be in Dollet for a teaching conference and we'll have Seth to ourselves all day," Laguna said.

"Liz know about this?"

"Are you kidding me?" Laguna asked with a nervous laugh. "Not a conversation I want to have."

"Just checking. We both know you're not a very good liar."

"Yeah, well. That's true," he said. "Selphie also called to remind us about the party on Friday. She wasn't happy you forgot to RSVP. Something else, that girl."

Squall sighed and pressed a hand to his forehead. The last thing he wanted to do was go to a party disguised as a memorial. He just wanted to forget, to pretend Rinoa didn't exist.

"I don't want to go."

"I don't either, but you probably should," Laguna said. "Why not go for an hour and then split?"

With Squall's job on the line, it would look bad if he didn't show up. The party was a Garden sanctioned event to celebrate ten years since their victory, but to Squall, Ultimecia's defeat never felt like one.

He cleared the dishes from the table and ignored Laguna's protest that he would take care of it. His legs trembled, and his hands shook so hard, the plates knocked together as he carried them across the room.

"Son?"

"Yeah?"

"I think, maybe you should pay Ben a visit," Laguna said. "I don't think those meds are working very well."

Squall nodded and turned on the sink. Laguna was probably right. If anything, things were worse. He suffered through bouts of apathy before, but never like this. With the exception of the days leading up to his overdose, Squall never failed to get up in the morning and train. Since his second hospitalization and new meds, all he wanted to do was lay in bed and pretend nothing existed beyond the walls of the room.

Seth burst into the kitchen and threw his arms around Squall's legs. Liz followed close behind, and eyed Squall with suspicion, as if she expected a snide comment or an argument. He was in no mood for it, but Seth was his son and she didn't have the right to tell him he couldn't see him. There was no custody agreement, since until now, there was no need, but if she planned to give him a hard time, she would wind up with a nasty fight on her hands.

Squall knelt down to give his son a hug to avoid Liz's scrutinizing stare.

"Hey, buddy," he said. "Missed you, kiddo."

Seth broke away and stared at Squall with too much concern for a kid his age. He laid a small hand against Squall's cheek and frowned.

"You're not feeling good, are you dad?"

"I'm okay," Squall promised.

"Why are you so sad?"

Seth's intuition was eerie. Squall shook his head, unable and unwilling to discuss the subject, even if he suspected Seth already knew the answers to his own questions. He suspected Seth knew a lot more than he was saying, period.

"You know, I don't really know. Sometimes, people just get sad."

"Rinoa's sad too," Seth whispered in his ear. "You should go see her. In the center."

Squall gritted his teeth and ignored Seth's suggestion. From now on, any time Seth brought her up, for the sake of his own sanity, Squall would pretend it didn't happen.

"You and me and your Granddad are going to do something fun today," Squall said. "So I won't be sad anymore."

"Yeah?" Seth asked. "What?"

"Whatever you want, buddy. We can go to the beach, or the park or maybe we'll just hang out here and watch cartoons and eat ice cream before dinner."

"Squall," Liz said.

"What?" he snapped.

"Can I see you privately for a minute?"

Squall followed her to the hallway and readied himself for an unwanted she was about to chew his ass about a damned bowl of ice cream, he wasn't interested. There were bigger things to worry about.

"What?"

"I know you want to be at the house with him, but that doesn't mean you have to spoil him to make up for it."

"One bowl of ice cream is not spoiling him," Squall said. "But if it bothers you that much, we'll wait till after dinner."

"It's not about the ice cream," she said. "Why did you tell him he could get a dog for his birthday?"

"I didn't. I said I'd talk to you about it."

"He seems to think he's getting one. He's even picked out a name, for Hyne's sake."

Squall sighed. "I'll talk to him. Are you finished?"

"Why do you have to make me the bad guy?" she asked. "This is hard enough as it is without you doing things to undermine me."

"He said he wanted a dog for his birthday," Squall said. "I said I'd discuss it with you. That's it."

"And now he's going to be upset with me because I'm the mean one who said no."

Squall shrugged, but his temper flared.

"Not my problem."

"What is with you today?"

Squall bit back every nasty thing that came to mind, shrugged and walked away.

When he returned to the kitchen, Seth was telling Laguna everything he knew about dogs. Squall cringed and wished he didn't have to be the one to let Seth down. He meant to discuss it with Liz, but with everything else going on, it never came up.

Liz knelt down to fuss over Seth, and she reminded him of the rules as Squall moved to Laguna's side. Feeling rebellious, Squall crossed his arms over his chest and glanced at his father from the corner of his eye.

"Hey, dad? How do you feel about getting a dog?"

"Did you just call me...?"

"Yeah," he said with an embarrassed shrug. "So, what do you think?"

"I think that's a great idea son," Laguna beamed. "Every boy should have a dog."

"Hey Seth," Squall said, purely out of spite, "What do you say we take a ride down to the animal shelter and pick out a dog today?"

"Yes!"

Liz cut her eyes at him. If looks could kill, Squall's entire body would have blasted apart into a thousand tiny chunks all over the kitchen floor.

* * *

Seifer lay on the bed and watched Zell pack for his return trip to Balamb. He'd gotten used to Zell being there, and though it was only four days, Seifer hated the idea of Zell leaving. Worse, he couldn't shake the sense that he really did love the goofy idiot. Not that he planned to admit it.

"Are you going to sulk all night, or what?" Zell asked.

"Not sulking," Seifer said, aware he was doing exactly that.

"You could come with, you know."

"Come with you to the anniversary of the end of a war I started," Seifer said. "No thanks."

"You wouldn't have to go to the memorial," Zell said. "We could get a hotel, you could chill in the room."

"You expect me to wait around until you stumble in drunk at some ungodly hour?" Seifer asked.

"That's not necessarily a bad thing," Zell said with a small self-satisfied smile.

Seifer was tempted. Really, really tempted, but it was a terrible idea.

"Plenty of shit to do around here," Seifer said. "I'll survive.

Zell stopped packing and climbed onto the bed. He dropped his cheek against Seifer's folded elbow and hooked a leg over Seifer's knees. He smelled of cedar and Seifer decided he rather liked the scent on Zell's skin.

"You know I don't really want to go, right?" Zell asked. "I'm going to feel like a big fat liar the whole time."

"So don't go."

"Are you kidding? If I don't show, Selphie will be on the very first train here to murder me in person," Zell said. "Then she'll desecrate my corpse and set it on fire when she finds out not only have I kept _us_ a secret but that Rin's here too."

Seifer laughed and imagined the petite paradox of adorable and crazy doing exactly that. He didn't know Selphie well, but there was something _very_ scary about that girl. Her cheery smile hid a dark and very twisted love of violence that a younger Seifer would have enjoyed immensely.

"She doesn't know you're here," Seifer pointed out.

"Oh, she'd figure it out," Zell promised. "Some how, some way, she would know."

Zell brushed his fingers over two days worth of stubble on Seifer's chin and Seifer turned to look at him.

"I'd rather stay here," Zell said. "At least I don't have to lie to anybody."

"That mean you're happy here?"

"It's weird, huh? Even with Rin here, I kinda feel like this is home, like we're actually a family," Zell said. Then he snorted. "God, that sounds cheesy."

Seifer didn't give him crap because he was right. Ten years ago, he never would never have pictured a life like this, where two people who had every right to hate him became the two closest, most important people in his world. It was sentimental and sappy, but it was true. He couldn't imagine something different.

"Squall's going to figure out she's here, you know."

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that," Zell said. "He really needs to know, but..."

"Maybe you should let her go with you to Balamb," Seifer said.

For the last three days, Rinoa begged Zell to let her go in disguise, as if her new name and credentials were burning a hole in her pocket. Zell was firmly against it, but Seifer wondered if it was better to just get it over with. Break it to Squall gently, let him see her, and they could decide together what to do about it.

It was risky, but Seifer doubted the problem with Squall was trauma from too much war and bloodshed, but separation from his Sorceress. If she could hear him, he could probably hear her. Maybe, the only way to sort the whole thing out was to tell the truth. Seifer would want to know if he was in Squall's shoes.

"That's a really bad idea," Zell said. "Do not tell her any of that, okay? Not a word."

"Why not?" Seifer asked. "Why prolong the inevitable?"

"Because I don't see it having a happy ending for either of them, that's why," Zell said. "Squall's one egg short of an omelet and Rin's still basically seventeen and impulsive to the point of recklessness. It's a _bad_ idea."

"Would you rather him come here?"

"No, but-" Zell said. He rolled off Seifer's elbow and stared at the ceiling sulkily.. "I don't want to argue with you."

Seifer sat up and leaned above him, grinning as he brushed a thumb over Zell's bottom lip.

"You're cute when you pout."

"Stop it," Zell said. "I'm not pouting."

Zell was pouting, and it was a little irresistible, but Zell's dark glare was not.

"Look, I get where you're coming from," Seifer said, "but if she wants to go, let her. It's her life and what she does is her decision. We don't get any say in it, no matter how much we might want her to stick around."

* * *

Dr. Mara was a tiny, slender woman in her early twenties with thick glasses and a pale, sickly complexion from spending too much time under artificial light. Squall waited patiently with Seth in his lap while Laguna and Dr. Mara worked their way through some pleasantries and talk about politics. They were introduced and forgotten for a while as the two chatted about Odine's latest brilliant but insane project and the state of the world in general.

A collie mix lay at Squall's feet, content with her new home and unperturbed by the newcomer. Squall was not comfortable with the name Seth chose, which was of course, Angelo. It wasn't even a surprise or a shock. Not after everything else.

The dog reminded him of the former Angelo. She was smart, well behaved and gentle. She attached herself to Seth right away, but when Seth wasn't there, she followed Squall from room to room the same way the original had done after the war.

"So, Seth," Dr. Mara said. "Your grandfather tells me you can do some pretty neat magic. Do you think you could show me some?"

"I guess," Seth said without enthusiasm.

"Show us your coolest trick," Laguna said. "I liked the thing you did with the butterflies and the flowers."

Seth looked around the room, his face full of concentration. When he spied a glass bowl full of clear blue marbles, Seth beckoned it to him with a motion of his finger. The bowl rose from its shelf and floated toward him.

One by one, the marbles lifted from the floating bowl and glistened in the early afternoon sunlight as they orbited around Seth, like tiny planets circling a small sun. Squall's heart was in his throat as the marbles sparked with electricity and glowed a pale, brilliant blue. Arcs of white-hot light joined together to form a rotating halo around the bowl, and Squall dug his fingernails into the arm of the couch.

It was incredible, and beautiful and absolutely terrifying. This kind of magic was something even experienced SeeDs would find difficult, if not impossible, to conjure.

Blue sparks jumped from sphere to sphere as they twisted themselves into a secondary halo and Squall squinted at their brightness. Seth waved his hand over the glowing bowl and the room filled with light so bright, Squall was blinded for a second.

When it faded back to daylight, they were surrounded by white feathers, drifting slowly toward the floor.

No one spoke for almost a full minute. Seth stared at his father with calm blue eyes until Squall held out his hand to him.

"Come here, buddy," Squall said, his voice gone hoarse.

Seth climbed back into Squall's lap and Squall smoothed the boy's hair, afraid of what Dr. Mara was going to say.

"Was that okay?" Seth asked.

"That was really cool, kiddo," Laguna said.

"This is remarkable," Dr. Mara whispered. "I've never seen..."

"Your diagnosis, Doctor?" Squall asked.

"It looks like Sorcery," she said, her eyes round behind the thick lenses of her glasses. "It's virtually impossible otherwise."

"Do you know of any other cases where something like this has happened?" Squall asked.

"Off hand, no. I'll have to do a little research, but I think it's safe to say, this is very unusual," Dr. Mara said. "If he was female, I would assume this was some sort of gift, but a thing like this is unheard of in boys."

Squall was afraid she would say something like that. He'd never heard of a boy with gifts before, either. It was always a girl, someone like Ellone, who could bend spoons or make walls disappear or invade people's memories. Never, ever a boy.

"Do you mind if Seth and I speak privately for a little while?" she asked.

"Is that okay Seth?" Squall asked.

Seth shrugged, but got up and followed Laguna and Dr. Mara to the playroom. Laguna returned and they sat in silence as Squall thought about everything that happened in the last few weeks, and all the creepy things Seth said in that time. Whatever was going on, Squall was sure it was somehow tied to his son and what he could do, he just didn't know _how_.

When Dr. Mara returned, she sat across from them, her expression thoughtful and a little perplexed.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," she said, "but every sign points to you son being a Sorcerer, Commander."

"How is that possible?" Squall asked.

"There's never been a single, documented case of something like this, to my knowledge," she said. "And I can only think of one instance where a boy was born gifted, but that was over a hundred years ago and the details are a little sketchy. I'll have to go digging to find the records..."

"How did this happen?" Squall asked. "I don't understand."

"He says Sorceress Rinoa gave him his power in a dream, that he took it from her as she was dying," she said. "Of course, that's not possible, but he believes that's how it happened."

Squall was starting to believe anything was possible, but that sick feeling overcame him again and the dark threatened to swallow him whole.

"So you're saying Seth is...a Sorcerer?" Laguna asked. "You're certain?"

"Yes, very certain," Dr. Mara said. "And he's a very powerful one at that."


	9. Chapter 9

**Nine**

* * *

On the train back to Balamb, Zell watched the vast expanse of dark blue ocean and cerulean sky pass monotonously outside the train car window. He already wished he was back at the orphanage and this farce of a memorial already over.

Zell wasn't a very good liar. Because of the girl sitting next to him, Zell would be forced to tell a tremendous lie to everyone he knew.

Rinoa looked at herself in the mirror of her compact and giggled at the dark blonde wig and the blue contact lenses she wore. Zell reminded himself she was still seventeen years old, regardless of her chronological age and she wasn't prepared to deal with the consequences of what could happen if she was found out. Zell doubted she even considered what could happen if she was discovered in a room full of people who were supposed to be morning her.

She was a missing Sorceress, for Hyne's sake. The world feared she would reappear one day and start destroying cities and enslaving the masses. If she was discovered alive, she would not be welcomed back with open arms.

"Chill," he said. "Act natural."

"I'm sorry. I just can't get over the blue eyes," she said. "It's so weird."

Zell wished she stayed in Centra with Seifer, for her own good. She was so persistent, something he forgot she could be, and he gave in against his better judgment out of sheer annoyance. She claimed she wanted to say goodbye to Rinoa Heartilly and give her new alias, Lenore Culpepper a test drive. In the process, she managed to convince Seifer, and between the two, Zell didn't stand a chance.

He understood why she would want to go, but it was a really, really bad idea. She looked exactly like the girl in the memorial photo that accompanied the invitation, blonde wig or not. She wasn't a SeeD trained in disguise, either.

So _many_ things could go wrong.

"I don't like this," Zell muttered for the hundredth time.

"It's going to be fine, Zell," she promised. "I'll bail if it looks like someone's getting suspicious. I promise."

"I don't like it," he said again. "I never should have agreed to this."

"Just stick to the story and it will be fine," she insisted.

The story Rinoa concocted for Lenore Culpepper wasn't a bad one, it just wasn't a great one. For the sake of the party, Lenore was Zell's cousin from Galbadia. He wasn't crazy about the fake cousin angle, but he needed a decent reason to bring a teenager as a date, and _cousin_ was the least creepy option.

As they stepped off the train in Balamb, Zell breathed in the familiar scent of his home town – the sea, the faint smell of diesel fuel, and humidity, and he looked around as they walked the short distance from the station to his Ma's house.

Everything seemed smaller. Different. Even his Ma's house looked strange.

"Ma?" he called as he opened the front door of his childhood home. "We're here!"

Ma popped out of the kitchen and grinned a big, happy grin. She threw her arms around Zell's neck, and he breathed in the scent of her perfume as he buried his face in her fleshy shoulder.

"Hyne, I missed you Ma," he said as he let her go. "How you been?"

"Same as always," she said. "Heavens, look at you! You're so tan! Are you going to introduce me to your friend?"

"Oh, yeah. Ma, this is Lenore, Lenore, Ma."

He stepped away so Ma could hug all over Rinoa, too, and Rinoa accepted her hugs and her compliments with a sheepish smile..

"Are you Zell's girlfriend?"

"No, ma'am," Rinoa said. "Just a friend."

"Still gay, ma," he said and rolled his eyes.

"Well, good, because I gave your number to that boy at the fish market," Ma said. "You know, the cute one. I think he might be interested. Turned the most adorable shade of pink..."

"You can't be giving out my number to strangers, Ma!" Zell said. He pressed a hand to his face and said a silent prayer for patience. Hyne help him, she meant well. "Quit doin' that."

"He's not a stranger. I buy fish from him once a week."

"Yeah?" Zell asked. "What's his name?"

"Pete...no, Paul?" Ma said. "Or, Parker? That's it. Parker."

"Tch, Ma," Zell said with a helpless smile. "_Please_ quit trying to set me up."

"I just want you to be happy."

Ma put on a pot of water for tea, though it was a little too late for it. The three sat down at her table and munched on fresh biscuits and slices of fruit. Rinoa ate earlier on the train and Zell's stomach was too tied up in knots to handle a full meal, but he ate anyway because he didn't want Ma to worry.

"Are you at least dating someone, Zell?" Ma asked. "Because if not -"

"Actually..." he cut in. "I'm seeing someone."

Ma grinned hugely.

"Is it serious?"

"Pretty serious, yeah."

"Oh, Zell, that's wonderful," she gushed. "Do I get to meet him?"

"Not this time, but he'll be coming for Quistis' wedding," Zell said. "I'll introduce you then."

"I'll bet he's very handsome," Ma said.

"And he knows it," Rinoa chimed in.

Ma gossiped about the goings on in town as they sipped their tea and picked at the tray of snacks. Big Bad Rascal was in jail for vandalizing a fishing boat. The Junk shop owner got roped into a pyramid scheme, lost all his savings, and might lose his business too. They were building another hotel to accommodate all the tourists. Fish was cheap this year due to a record haul.

Boring Balamb. It never changed.

Later, in his room, Zell called Seifer. He didn't have much to say, but he missed him and wanted to hear his voice. Mentally, Zell punched himself in the face for being a sap, but that didn't stop him from dialing Seifer's number or the relief he felt when Seifer answered.

"Hey, shithead. You get there okay?"

"Yeah. I'm at Ma's now."

"How's that disguise working out?"

"So far, so good," Zell said. "But I hate this, man. Someone's going to figure it out."

"Relax. You said yourself they don't really remember what she looks like. It'll be fine."

"Dude, if I know Selphie, there's going to be a poster sized picture of her face right in the middle of everything," Zell said. "Someone is going to notice the resemblance, disguise or not. And what if Squall picks up on it? Don't you think he's going to feel her there?"

"Then keep her away from him."

"Yeah, easier said than done."

"I don't want to argue about this," Seifer said tiredly. "We've already been over it. I'm done talking about it."

"I'm not arguing, I'm..._venting_."

Zell kicked off his shoes and sat down on the edge of the bed. So many ways this could go bad. So many things that could go wrong. Neither Seifer nor Rinoa wanted to acknowledge the danger.

"On a different note, I had a thought," Seifer said.

"Yeah? About what?" Zell asked as he flopped back into the pillow.

"That back room would make a great space for a martial arts studio. What do you think?"

Zell's original plan was to set up a small studio somewhere in the shopping district and maybe visit Seifer a couple weekends a month. The idea worked at the time, but now that he was settled in at the Orphanage, he didn't want to come back to Balamb on a permanent basis. That left the question of what to do for a living down in Centra, and maybe, Seifer had the answer.

"You think people would drive ten miles for it?" Zell asked.

"To learn from you, they would," Seifer said. "No matter how much shit I give you about it, you're a fucking legend, man. Rank A SeeD, vanquisher of evil Sorceresses, probably the most renowned martial artist in the world. They'll come. I'd bet money on it."

Compliments from Seifer were rare. So rare that it meant more to Zell than it might from someone else. Seifer's idea would give Zell a reason to stay long term, and Zell was surprised at how much he wanted that.

"Almasy, that is the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"You're confusing nice with honest," Seifer said. "Don't let it go to your head. Anyway, I thought I'd run it by you. If you're game, we should give it a shot."

Zell's eyes got all misty and his throat got a little tight.

"It's not a bad idea," Zell said, and struggled to stay casual. "We'll talk about it when I get back?"

"Yeah," Seifer said. "Assuming you don't get arrested for harboring a fugitive."

"Way to ruin the moment," Zell said and scowled at the phone. "I was kinda touched for a minute, but then you had to remind me what a dick you are."

Seifer's laughter took the edge off, but Zell still worried.

"It'll be fine, Zell. Stop worrying."

The lump in Zell's throat grew exponentially.

* * *

Preoccupied by thoughts of Seth and what he was, Squall paid no attention to the hearing going on around him. They were there to determine his competence or lack thereof and. they talked about him, and at him, but Squall didn't hear a word of it. To hell with the job and what they thought of him. His son was his priority. If it got out that Seth was a Sorcerer, Squall doubted the boy would be safe anywhere in the world, and especially not among the people in this room, save Quistis.

Quistis elbowed him and he looked up to see the board members already gathering their papers. They chatted amongst themselves, and Squall realized, the hearing was already over and he didn't have any idea of the outcome.

"Squall, I'm sorry," Quistis said.

That was all he needed to know his tenure as Commander was over. He couldn't even bring himself to care.

"Squall?"

"I'm fine," he said automatically. "Really. I'm glad it's over."

He didn't want or need Quistis' sympathy. His dismissal was inevitable and much less upsetting than he thought it would be. Now, he just needed to get the hell out of here.

"I think I can get them to agree to let you stay on as an instructor," Quistis said. "They know you're valuable, Squall."

"I can't do this right now," he said. "Thank you, but we'll discuss it later"

She gathered her things and stuffed paperwork inside her briefcase, then laid her hand on his forearm and squeezed gently in support.

"You can talk to me you know," she said. "I'm still your friend."

"I've got it handled, Quistis," he said dully. "It's done, I'm fine."

"Would you like to join me for lunch? I'm meeting Zell in Balamb. He's back for the party tomorrow. You're welcome to come."

"Thanks, but I've got an appointment," he lied.

The truth was, Squall was too embarrassed to face Zell. Zell found him at his lowest moment and saved his life, but Squall was too much a coward to look him in the eye or give him the thanks and gratitude he deserved.

He gathered his things and headed downstairs without bothering to clear his belongings from his office. The only personal items left behind were a photo of Seth and a coffee mug he never used. Quistis would make sure they were returned to him when she took over his post.

Laguna met him at the front gate and drove him home in silence. There wasn't much he could say, so he just watched the mountains and hills pass by outside the window and wondered for the thousandth time how Seth became a Sorcerer.

At home, Squall retrieved a bottle of whiskey from the kitchen cabinet, though it was barely noon. He poured two glasses - one for himself and one for Laguna. His father didn't drink, but Squall stared at him until he picked the glass up and lifted it.

"What are we drinking to?" Laguna asked.

"The end of my career," Squall said and knocked back all of it in one go. "Good riddance."

* * *

Quistis greeted Zell with a hug on the sidewalk outside the Balamb Grille. She couldn't remember the last time her friend looked so happy or healthy. His skin glowed an attractive bronze and his smile came easier, and Quistis was reminded of pre-war Zell for the first time in years.

"You look great," she told him. "I'm jealous of your tan. I'm stuck in my office so much, I barely know what daylight looks like anymore."

"Yeah, been working on the house," Zell said. "I brought pictures, if you wanna see how it's coming."

"Of course," she said. "Let's grab a table."

Zell chose a table on the restaurant patio and once they'd settled and ordered drinks, he handed her a stack of pictures. She thumbed through them one at a time, amazed by how much work they'd put into it and how different it looked. The broken pillars were all repaired and painted, all the weeds cleared away, and rose bushes were planted all along the front – Edea's favorite, if Quistis wasn't mistaken.

She paused on a photo of a dark-haired young woman in cut-off shorts and a plaid flannel top. The girl stood on a ladder, her back to the camera.

"Who's this?"

"Housekeeper," Zell said.

"Bet she didn't think she'd be doing manual labor when she took the job," Quistis mused.

"Probably not. She's a good kid, though. Doesn't seem to mind painting and stuff."

The last time Quistis set foot on the property, the whole place was a mess. She never understood how Cid and Edea lived there so long with holes in the walls and busted windows and the rotten roof that leaked in every room. What Seifer and Zell were doing to the place was clearly a labor of love, every refurbished wall and room evidence of what the Orphanage could have been if anyone ever cared to put in the work.

She stopped on a photo of a bedroom, but wasn't sure what it was that drew her attention. Just an ordinary bedroom. Double bed, nightstand, dresser, evidence a woman was staying there, judging by the lotions and perfume bottles and the romance novel on the nightstand. The housekeeper, probably. She was about to flip to the next when she realized what was out of place.

On the dresser, next to some decorative perfume bottles was a weapon Quistis recognized. The last time she set eyes on one was ten years ago, but she knew it immediately.

It was a Shooting Star, an extremely powerful and extremely rare projectile mod of the more common Pinwheel. And there was only one person Quistis had known in all these years that ever owned one.

_Rinoa Heartilly._

All kinds of alarm bells went off in Quistis' head, but she didn't know what to make of it. Why the weapon was there and who it actually belonged to were questions she wanted to ask, but she wasn't sure how to without sounding suspicious or crazy.

She flipped to the next photo in the stack. It was of the room they shared as children, but she barely recognized it. The floor was no longer stone but raw cedar planks, and the windows were new, and wider than she remembered, the ceiling was vaulted and skylights bathed the room in a ton of natural light.

"I can't believe this is the same house."

She flipped through the rest and paused again at the last few, which were of Seifer and Zell together. Zell wasn't the only one who looked happy.

"You two look good together," Quistis said, and she meant it.

"Who looks good together?" a chirpy voice said behind Quistis. "Oooh! Pictures!"

Selphie plopped down beside Quistis and snatched the photos out of her hands. Zell blushed bright red as Quistis made a bid to reclaim the photos, but Selphie had already seen.

"What the hell!" Selphie cried. "Are you hanging out with Seifer?!"

"You could say that."

"Why does he look like he's in love with you?" Selphie demanded.

Zell blushed so hard, he was red all the way to his scalp. Even his neck flushed as Selphie waved the pictures in front of his face.

"Is this what it looks like?" Selphie demanded.

Zell sighed and raked a hand through his hair.

"It's exactly what it looks like."

"Eeewwww!"

"Selphie!" Quistis cried. "Don't judge."

"What part do you object to?" Zell asked. "Me being gay or me seeing Seifer?"

"Seifer!" Selphie cried. "I mean, really? I figured you had higher standards than _that_."

Anger flared in Zell's eyes and Quistis reached out and covered his hand with hers, not only to calm him, but to show her support. Whether or not she understood his choice, he was her friend and she would respect that. Even if Selphie didn't.

"You're not bringing him as your date, are you?" Selphie asked.

"Of course not," Zell said. "Are you crazy? I'm not trying to get him killed."

"But you RSVP'ed for two," Selphie said. "Who are you bringing?"

"My cousin, Lenore. She's visiting Ma for a few days. Figured I'd spare her the joy of Ma's Friday night TV schedule."

"That's really nice of you," Quistis said, hoping to redirect the conversation. "Where's she from?"

"Dollet," Zell said shortly. "She's only visiting for a few days."

Quistis scrutinized Zell's discomfort, and got the impression he was lying. About what, Quistis wasn't sure, but she was sure at least part of his story was a lie.

"So back to you and Seifer," Selphie said and narrowed her eyes. "I want details."

"Selphie..." Zell groaned. "Stop, okay? I don't really care what your opinion is."

"I've always kind of wondered...What's he like in bed?"

"Selphie!" Quistis cried. "That's none of your business."

"Oh, please. We're all girls here," Selphie said. "Is he a brute?"

"Being gay doesn't make me a girl," Zell snapped. "And... No. Not always."

"Really?"

"I'm happy, okay?" Zell said. "Can we leave it at that?"

Selphie opened her mouth to ask more questions, but Quistis glared until she shrugged and gave up. Across the table, Zell relaxed and offered Quistis a smile of gratitude.

"Well, this explains why you keep changing the seating chart for the wedding," Selphie said to Quistis. "I kept moving Seifer _away_ from you and she kept putting him back. I thought she'd lost her damn mind!"

"On a different and totally unrelated and much sadder note," Quistis said in attempt to change the subject again, "the board met this morning to decide what to do with Squall. As of a week from Friday, he's officially stepping down, though it might as well be effective immediately. They put him on leave until then."

"How did he take it?" Zell asked.

"He didn't seem to care at all," Quistis said.

"What's he going to do now?"

"I don't know," Quistis said honestly. "He hasn't really said anything."

"Is somebody keeping an eye on him?" Zell asked. "Or at least checking up on him?"

"He's staying with Laguna for now," Quistis said.

"Seriously? Man, he must be really bad off," Zell asked. "So who's taking his place?"

Quistis sighed, "I am."

* * *

When Liz dropped Seth off that afternoon, she joined Squall on the deck outside, where Squall sat reading a book Laguna borrowed from Dr. Mara about Hyne and Sorcery. It was all legend, and not helpful, but it was an interesting read and covered the two most popular versions of the tale, as well as one or two of the more obscure.

He set the book aside as Liz settled into the chair across from him.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I hate that we're not on the same page as far as Seth is concerned," she said. "I don't want to fight with you."

"A difference of opinion isn't a fight," Squall said.

"It is when you don't consult me."

"I don't consult you because I'm never allowed an opinion," Squall said. "You decide things and I'm supposed to go along with it."

"Oh, like the dog?" she asked. "That I said_ no_ to and you went ahead and got anyway?"

"The dog stays here with Laguna," Squall said. "You don't need to worry about it."

She pressed her hands over her face and shook her head. She said she didn't want a fight, but here she was, picking one, and Squall was not in the mood to debate. Not about the dog, or about the amount of time he spent with Seth or about the job he didn't have anymore.

"This is what I'm talking about," she said. "I know you're having a hard time right now, and I just think maybe it would be better if..."

Squall sat up and folded his arms over his knees.

"You better not be about to say I need to limit my time with him," Squall said. "That's not going to happen."

"No, I..." she began and then looked away. "Look, I'm _so_ afraid I'm going to wake up and get the news that you're not okay or that something happened. And I worry that some of this is my fault for leaving, for putting too much pressure on you to get better too fast..."

Squall gritted his teeth. The board deemed him unfit for duty. Laguna hid away all the knives and sharp objects and locked up the over-the-counter medicines. And Liz worried something would _happen_. He wondered if they would ever stop treating him like he had a gun in one hand and a bullet in the other.

"Not your fault," he said. "Never was your fault."

"I think, for Seth's sake, maybe it's a good idea to talk things out from now on," she said. "And, maybe, in a few months we can give _us_ another chance..."

Squall doubted he would be any closer to leaving Rinoa behind in a few months time, even with his required therapy. Maybe, he would never get over her. Maybe, she really was out there, living, breathing, alive, and maybe it was just a mater of time before they crossed paths again.

Or, maybe Squall was completely out of his mind.

Liz didn't deserve to be a placeholder or a substitute. Until Squall knew for sure, Liz couldn't be anything but, and that wasn't fair her. If someday Squall got definitive proof Rinoa did not exist, it would be worth a shot to try again. But right now, with so much uncertainty surrounding Rinoa and Seth and everything else, there was no room for Squall to start something he might not be able to finish.

"I don't know if that's possible," he said as kindly as he could. "I don't want you to have to compete with her."

She templed her hands against her lips and looked him over, clinically and without emotion, the way Dr. Kadowaki used to look at him after a fight with Seifer. Squall shrank under her gaze, and turned his eyes on the book he cast aside upon her arrival.

"I heard about the board's decision," she said. "I'm sorry."

"...whatever," he said. "I can't disagree with them."

"What are you going to do now?" she asked.

"Regroup," he said. "Spend more time with Seth."

"If you want, you can pick him up after school until you go back to work or decide what you're doing," she said. "I think he'll like that."

"Thank you," he said.

* * *

Zell told Rinoa to stay at the house while he went to lunch with friends. She tried to follow directions and stay put, but anxiety and boredom got the better of her. She decided a walk would clear her head, so she donned her wig and an ugly brown dress with an even uglier cardigan and stepped outside to get some fresh air.

Balamb was bigger than she remembered. There were two more hotels besides the one near the harbor, and the shopping district was larger and packed with trendy clothing stores and boutiques full of colorful bathing suits. Closer to the beach were souvenir and surf shops and restaurants and fancy bistros that served trendy meals and designer coffee.

Rinoa wandered the streets, window shopping, until she realized she didn't know where she was anymore. She looked around for something familiar at the next cross street, saw the ocean in the distance and turned toward it. If she could find her way to the harbor, she could find her way back to Zell's without a problem.

Between the new ocean-front hotel and the harbor was a park with a small playground and picnic tables, and a flat grassy area with football goals on each end. A concrete path meandered through trees and shrubs that circled the grounds and Rinoa wandered toward it, her search for the road back to Zell's forgotten.

At the far end of the park, three laughing little girls chased a tall slender man around the grassy field. Closer to Rinoa, a little boy played fetch with a dog.

She thought maybe if she cut through the park, she would wind up near the train station. She took the tree lined concrete path and headed north along the sidewalk, enjoying the ocean breeze and balmy weather, though it was still humid enough to make her scalp feel itchy and sweaty under the wig. Discreetly, she adjusted it and continued on her way until she reached the far end of the sidewalk.

A ball flew across the path, followed by a spotted collie mix with one blue eye and one brown eye. The dog stopped when it spotted her, one ear pricked in curiosity and Rinoa averted her eyes as it stared her down. Gingerly, she held out her hand for the dog to smell. It approached, sniffed her fingertips and then licked her hand all over, tail wagging like she was a long, lost friend.

"Aren't you pretty?" she said as she knelt down to receive the dog's affection. "Sweet girl."

"Angelo!" a boy's voice called.

The dog's ears pricked up and cocked it's head at the sound.

_Angelo._

"Are you Angelo?" she asked the dog. "I had an Angelo once. Don't know what happened to her, though. I hope someone looked out for her."

A boy about five years old with chestnut brown hair and ice blue eyes emerged from the bushes and stared at Rinoa and the dog, his expression cool and inscrutable. Rinoa's heart skipped a beat as she gazed back at him. She knew exactly who he was. Even without photos, Rinoa recognized him and she recognized Squall in the color and shape of his eyes and in his posture and in the calculating way he stared.

"I knew you would come."

"What?"

"Don't you remember me?"

He stared at her as if they were acquainted, as if waiting for her to recognize him. His eyes were not those of a child, but those of an old and wise and intelligent soul.

"From the dreams," he said. "You gave me your power when you died."

Rinoa pressed a hand to her mouth in surprise. Gave him her power?

That was impossible, since she was alive and still very much a Sorceress, whether she liked it or not.

But...she did feel something radiating out of the boy, some kind of force that screamed, _I know you_. _We are the same._

There was powerful magic in him, an aura of blue light surrounding his body, and as she squinted at him through her glasses, the faintest outline of wings radiated out from his back.

"I don't remember that," she said. "Can you remind me?"

The boy smiled and shrugged. "It happens a long time from now."

"Seth?" a voice called from the other side of the bushes. "Where are you, buddy?"

Oh, she _knew_ that voice.

Her heart beat double-time and her body gravitated toward him like a metal drawn in by a magnet. Rinoa almost quit the disguise as she rose to her feet, almost tore off the wig and the glasses to go to him.

Rinoa had to leave, before it was too late, before she threw herself at him, but as she turned to leave, she stopped and turned back to Seth.

"You're the boy in my dreams?"

Seth nodded. "Yep."

"What does it mean?" she wondered. "Are you like Ellone?

"Yes, and no," he said. "Gotta go. See you soon."

He grabbed hold of the dog's collar and guided her gently toward the field. The dog gave a forlorn whimper as she gazed back at Rinoa, then bounded through the bushes and back to their game of fetch.

"Seth?"

"Coming, dad!"

Rinoa sat down on the sidewalk and choked down ten different emotions all at once. Squall was so close, she could sense him, less than ten feet away, so, _so_ painfully close and she burned on the inside because she couldn't go to him.

His soul called out to her, and she couldn't help but be drawn in, pulled in and she reached for him with her mind, to offer reassurance, or confirmation, or proof of life because she didn't want to be invisible or forgotten anymore.

"_I love you. I'm so sorry."_

He heard it. He felt it. He _knew_ she was there.

But, before she could do any real damage, Rinoa turned and ran from the park like all of hell was on her heels.

* * *

"Rinoa's here dad," Seth said conversationally as he rejoined Squall on the field. Angelo bounded up beside him, excited and ready to continue their game of fetch. "She's here to see us."

Squall stared at his son, the now familiar alarm just a dull flicker in his chest. Now that Squall knew what Seth was, and what he could do, he was more inclined to believe the things the boy said, but that didn't mean Squall was no longer afraid. The opposite, actually, but now he feared for different reasons.

"She was right over there," Seth said and pointed towards the bushes. "But she got scared and ran away."

He gazed toward the trees and shrubs and couldn't deny he sensed her, stronger than ever, so close he thought if he closed his eyes, he could still find her by instinct alone.

"What does that mean, Seth?" Squall asked as he sat down in the grass beside his son. "She was in your dream? Or she's actually here?"

"I told you, she's not lost anymore."

Seth threw the ball for Angelo and the dog darted off after it.

"So she's here?" Squall asked. "In Balamb?"

The boy was so calm, so sure of himself. Not a trace of doubt in him, no matter how impossible his claim was.

"I helped her find her way back."

"Back to where?"

Seth's eyes belonged to someone much older and wiser. They were the eyes of someone who had seen struggle and hard times, death and tragedy and loss. They were bottomless, _infinite_, and Squall got the feeling, if he stared too long, he'd fall headfirst into them and never find his way back out.

"To you."

Squall desperately wanted to believe. He wanted to buy into Seth's calm certainty, to believe she was near, but he didn't dare.

"Where is she?"

"Around."

Whether Seth was being deliberately obtuse or not, his answers to Squall's questions only created more questions. More questions and more uncertainty and Squall stood on shaky ground as it was.

"Come here, kiddo," Squall said and held out his hand to his son. "We gotta talk."

"We are talking," Seth said, but he seated himself in Squall's lap and watched Angelo roll happily in the grass. "But you're not listening."

Squall didn't want to ask any more questions, but there were things he needed to know. As scary and crazy as all this was, the truth was the only way to make sense of all this.

"Do you know what you are, Seth?" Squall asked. "Do you know why you can do magic?"

Seth nodded. "Rinoa gave me her powers when she was dying."

First, Seth said Rinoa was alive, and now she was dead? That made no sense, but Seth looked at him patiently, as if waiting for Squall to put the pieces together.

Blackness crept in on the edges of Squall's vision, but he tightened his grip on his son. He couldn't afford to slip away or shut down. Not when he was so close to learning what was really going on.

"I don't understand. What does that mean?"

"She was old and she said she was ready to die, so I got her powers."

"This happened in your dream?"

"Yep," Seth said. "She doesn't die for a long time."

He fidgeted with the zipper on his coat, now bored with the conversation and Squall's lack of comprehension.

"Explain this to me, buddy," Squall said and scratched his chin. "Tell me from the beginning, okay?"

Angelo plopped down on her belly and began to lick Seth's hands and face. Seth giggled like the little boy he was, and Squall began to doubt this conversation was really happening.

"I got lost in the place where time was all messed up," Seth said, "so I went looking to get out, and I found her in a field of flowers, but she was old and sick."

"A field of flowers?"

"Near the ocean," Seth said. "There was a lighthouse and you were there, and you were old, too and she gave me her power so she could die the right way."

Was it possible to accept power from a dying Sorceress in a dream? Squall didn't understand how that could happen, but there was too much he didn't know to say it was impossible. There was too much about _Seth_ he didn't know to say what was real and what wasn't.

"So this happens in the future, a long time from now," Squall said for clarification. "When she's old and dying."

"Uh huh."

"You go to the future in your dreams?"

"Sometimes," Seth said. He yawned and scratched Angelo behind the ears. "Sometimes it's a long time ago."

"But Rinoa is alive now."

"Yeah," Seth said. "Can we get some ice cream?"

"Maybe in a bit," Squall said. "If she's alive, where is she? Is she still in time compression?"

"No, she's here. But she looks different."

"Different how?" Squall asked. "Older?"

"No. She's hiding."

"Hiding?"

"She's pretending to be someone else."

"Why would she do that?"

"I don't know," he said with a shrug. "She's afraid."

"Of what?"

Seth shrugged, his attention and patience for the conversation visibly waning. Squall stared at his son, who was more interested in Angelo than their conversation, and Squall decided to leave it alone for the time being. The more answers he got from Seth, the more questions there were, and Squall wasn't entirely sure the answers he got were truth or just Seth's imagination.

"What do you say we go get some ice cream, kiddo?"

"Sure," Seth said. Then his eyes went unfocused and his body flickered, gone and back in the blink of an eye, and he gazed up at Squall with tears in his eyes. "Every time I try to fix stuff, it gets all messed up."

"What do you mean, buddy?"

"Bad stuff," Seth said. He wiped away a tear. "But nobody listens to me."


	10. Chapter 10

**Ten**

* * *

Seth sits in the living room of his grandfather's house and stares out at the setting sun. There are butterflies in his stomach because he knows what is coming, and there is nothing he can do to stop it. He wipes away a tear as the babysitter calls out from the kitchen to tell him dinner is ready.

Seth is not hungry, but he eats anyway and tries to ignore the tug of the past and present and future all twining together in his brain.

It gets confusing sometimes, the directions and outcomes and differences between this timeline and all the others. There are so many tiny things that can alter the future. Time is an infinite web of interconnecting threads that branch out, on and on forever. It's easy to get lost, to get pulled into other times where his father is happy.

There are so few happy endings for Squall Leonhart. And so few for Seth.

He has learned he can change the past, through the smallest of actions, but there are some events that no matter how he alters them will always stay the same, some events that are destined to be. He's seen what's coming and he has tried in vain to change it, but no matter what, it will happen one way or another.

So many times, he's seen it happen, and he's grieved so many times, he's said goodbye so many times and in so many ways, and it still hurts.

Come morning, he will have to say goodbye again.

* * *

The Balamb Grande Hotel ballroom was already packed by the time Rinoa and Zell arrived. Rinoa tugged uncomfortably her frumpy, shapeless dress and looked around at the tasteful but incongruous decorations. It looked more like a wedding than a memorial with all the bouquets of sky-blue flowers, balloons, streamers everywhere.

At the front of the room, and surrounded by more flowers was a huge photo of Rinoa. She hated that photo. Taken during their brief visit to Winhill, Rinoa's eyes were squinty and tired and her hair was a dirty, windblown mess.

She clutched Zell's arm as he guided her through the crowd and she searched for familiar faces. The further they moved into the room, the less she remembered her back-story. For all her preparation, she was not really prepared to meet any of them face to face.

All these people, here to remember and honor her. Rinoa Heartilly was ten years in the grave, or so they all thought.

"Zell!" Selphie cried.

Selphie crashed into him like a bulldozer and nearly knocked him over. He grunted and righted himself, then forcibly removed Selphie's vice-like grip on his waist.

She wore her hair longer, but it still flipped up on the ends, less dramatic but still childlike and her eyes still glittered with spirit and mischief. Rinoa wished she could hug her old friend, but instead reclaimed Zell's arm and averted her eyes.

"Geez, Selphie," Zell complained. "Are you drunk already?"

"Of course I am!" Selphie cried. "Where have you been? You need to catch up."

"The party started an hour ago."

"Your point?" Selphie asked with a grin. "What's your poison?"

"Whiskey, rocks," he said. He turned to Rinoa, "You want something?"

"Uh, same?"

"You must be Zell's cousin," Selphie said and threw herself at Rinoa. "I'm Selphie. Nice to meet you!"

Rinoa accepted Selphie's painful hug, but took care not to hold too tight or for too long. Selphie didn't know Lenore, they'd never met, but she half-crushed Rinoa's ribs and squeezed like they were the very best of friends.

"Okay, Seffie, let the girl breathe," Zell said. "You were getting drinks?"

"Oh, yeah. Be right back!"

She released Rinoa and flounced off toward the bar, the swish of her too-short skirt almost flashing half the room. Rinoa rubbed her bruised ribs and smiled.

"She hasn't changed much," Rinoa said.

"Except, she drinks like a fish. Not that I have any right to judge," Zell said. "I don't think we'll have to worry about her. She's probably been drunk since noon."

"Should we sit?"

"Best to stay on your feet in case you need to move quickly."

That sounded like something Squall would say. After so many years of being a SeeD, Rinoa supposed it was only natural that some of the militaristic attitude rubbed off on Zell, but it still threw her.

"Then it's probably a good idea to stay moving, huh?"

Selphie skidded to a stop in front of them, drinks in hand, then flitted off toward a group of people Rinoa didn't recognize. Zell swallowed down the contents of his glass and set it aside as Rinoa sipped hers.

"By the way, your father was invited..." Zell said. "I don't know if he'll show up, but don't be surprised if he does."

Rinoa's stomach tightened and she glanced around the room. So many mixed feelings about her father, not only for her childhood, but for his actions during and following the war. His choice to contract SeeD to assassinate Edea was a wildly subversive act for a man in his position. Yet, her whole life he treated her like she was incapable of understanding anything, he'd locked her in her room whenever she disagreed with him, and ignored her unless it served his purposes.

Rinoa tensed as Quistis approached, her smile cool and reserved. A handsome man in his early to mid-thirties escorted her. Her fiancée, Rinoa assumed. Clad in a sleek, navy-blue cocktail dress, a strand of creamy pearls around her neck, Quistis was elegant, gorgeous, and confident.

"Look at you," Quistis said as she straightened his tie. "I can't remember the last time I saw you in a suit."

"Irvine and Selphie's second wedding, I think," Zell said and kissed her on the cheek. "You look great, by the way."

He shook hands with Quistis' fiancée, Ben, and introduced Rinoa by her alias. Rinoa took care to keep her face partially hidden by her hair and her eyes averted, but Quistis looked a little too long, as if studying and scrutinizing her features. Rinoa almost excused herself, uncomfortable under Quistis' sharp gaze, but the woman returned her attention to Zell and engaged him in a conversation about Garden politics.

Rinoa tuned it out and focused on the room around her. A few tables away, Irvine conversed with Selphie and a few others. His auburn hair was streaked with premature gray, but he still wore it in a long ponytail, and there were creases in his forehead that weren't there before. If Zell's stories about Selphie and their coven of little girls was true, Rinoa would bet poor Irvine was aging well ahead of the curve as a result.

Hyne, how much she'd missed. Her plight was never more real than it was now. They all grew up while she stayed exactly the same.

She froze as she spied her father across the room, staring at the jumbo portrait of herself with an impassive expression. A small part of her longed for the days when she was little, when he would fold her up in his arms and she felt loved and protected. Seeing him now, with so much gray in his hair and so many deep creases in his face only compounded the distance between then and now.

"I'm surprised he came, to be honest with you," Quistis said. "After what happened the last time."

"Who wants to take bets on whether or not Squall takes a swing?" Zell asked.

"That's terrible," Quistis said. "Though, I suppose we should try to run interference if Squall actually shows up tonight."

"If I were him, I'd sit it out, but I have a feeling Selphie didn't give him a choice," Zell said.

Quistis' eyes turned sad and she cast her gaze toward Caraway.

"I've heard rumors Caraway's not in the best of health," she said.

"He looks pretty fit to me," Zell said.

"The story is, he's convinced we're at war," Quistis said. "And that he sometimes forgets his wife is dead."

"That's kinda sad," Zell said. He cast Rinoa a sideways glance and tightened his grip on her arm. "If it's true. You know how rumors are."

Rinoa looked back to the memorial photo, but her father was no longer there. They had their share of differences, but there was no satisfaction in the news he might not be as mentally sound as he once was.

A beautiful woman dressed in red approached and smiled kindly at Quistis. Rinoa recognized her from Cid's photos: This was Elizabeth Kadowaki, Squall's ex-wife.

She was even more beautiful in person, and Rinoa felt stupid and awkward and boring in her frumpy, ugly dress. She stumbled her way through the introductions and took care to keep her eyes averted. Over the last month, Rinoa studied her photo endlessly and compared this woman's features to her own, and Rinoa found herself lacking.

"I assume you've all heard the news," Quistis said regretfully. "About Squall?"

"Laguna told me," Liz said. "I tried to discuss it with him, and he doesn't even care..."

"I wish he would talk to someone," Quistis said. "I'm worried about him."

"That makes two of us," Liz said. She shook her head and glanced around the room. "I feel awful for even being here, Quistis. It's _her_ fault he's falling apart like this, and I'm afraid all of this is just going to make it worse."

Rinoa's cheeks blazed and she ducked her head to hide it. Was it really all her fault?

Being here was a mistake. She hoped it would help her move on, but she didn't belong here.

"I've always resented her," Liz said quietly. "I always felt like the other woman. Am I a bad person for hating a dead girl?"

Rinoa looked at her carefully. The woman must be drunk to admit to hating a girl she never met, and Hyne did it hurt to hear someone talk about her this way. Rinoa Heartilly was a dead girl, and that was never more apparent than it was now.

Quistis' eyes swept over Rinoa again, and again, she looked too long and too closely. Rinoa sipped her drink and fidgeted with the clasp of her clutch purse and pretended boredom with the conversation.

Liz grabbed a fresh glass of wine from a passing waiter and drank half of it down in one sip.

Definitely drunk.

"He loved her very much, so I understand why you'd resent it," Quistis said, returning her attention to Liz. "I advised Selphie against all of this for Squall's sake, but she just wouldn't listen."

The strangest sensation overcame Rinoa and she was hyper-aware of everything around her. A trill of electricity buzzed through her limbs and a sharp tug pulled her gaze toward the door.

The room faded as her eyes fell on the man in the doorway. Laguna Loire stood at his side, but all Rinoa could focus on was Squall. Her breath quickened and her heart throbbed and she found herself transfixed by all the ways time changed him.

Gone was the slightly androgynous beauty of his late teens, and he stood a little taller, his shoulders broader, and he still stole her breath away.

She couldn't take her eyes off him. If she could just talk to him, maybe it would make everything okay, and maybe they could both move on with their lives.

"Lenore," Zell said and shook her arm. "Hey."

"What?"

"I asked if you were ready for another drink."

"Oh, yeah," she agreed. "I'll have another."

"Good," he said. "Come with me."

He led her to the bar, where he ordered another round for the both of them. As they waited, Zell leaned in close, lips next to her ear.

"You were staring. _Don't_ stare."

"I'm sorry. I couldn't help it," she said. "This is harder than I thought it would be."

"Do you want to go?"

"Not yet. I just want to watch for a while. Make sure he's okay. Then I'll leave."

Zell's gaze swept over her, sympathetic and sad, and he patted her arm gently as the bartender placed fresh glasses on the bar top.

"I'm sorry you had to hear all that.

"I shouldn't have come," she said. "I should have known she'd hate me."

"Liz doesn't really hate you," Zell said. "She's just always felt like she never quite measured up to your memory."

Rinoa didn't think she'd ever be so put together or beautiful or perfect as Elizabeth Kadowaki-Leonhart. She was the one that didn't measure up. Even if she chose to wear something a touch more stylish, Liz would still outshine her.

"Martini, dry."

She turned toward the familiar voice and looked away just as quickly. Her father stood beside her and she turned her back on him, eyes wide as she peered back at Zell. Zell visibly tensed as he acknowledged Caraway with a curt nod.

"Dincht," her father greeted. "It's been a while."

"Long enough that I'm surprised you remember me," Zell said. He offered his hand and Rinoa was forced to face him. "Good to see you."

"Likewise," Caraway said. "You're not in uniform."

"Naw, I retired," Zell said.

They made small talk, until Caraway noticed Rinoa and introduced himself. His flinty eyes bored into her, and Rinoa shrank under his scrutiny.

"Julia," he said with more warmth than Rinoa knew he was capable of. "Your show tonight was wonderful as usual."

Startled, Rinoa looked up at him and took a step back. She struggled to stay passive under her father's gaze, disconcerted by being called by her mother's name. Perhaps her disguise was not as good as she thought. Or perhaps he was too far gone and called every young woman Julia.

Either way, her heart broke a little. For him, and for her mother, and for everything they never got to share as a family.

"I think you've mistaken me for someone else," she said. "My name is Lenore."

"Yes," Caraway agreed. "Yes, of course. You reminded me of someone."

"We should circulate," Zell said stiffly. "General. It was good seeing you."

"That was creepy," Rinoa said as Zell led her away from the bar. "Maybe the rumors are true..."

"Yeah, that was pretty weird," Zell agreed. "Should probably steer clear."

Rinoa searched the crowd for Squall and spotted him on the far side of the room. He looked like he would rather be anywhere else in the world than here.

_Hyne, it feels like you're right here..._

His voice, in her head, loud and clear, and she choked back a cry at the sharp stab of grief in her chest. He could feel her, just as she felt him. He knew she was there, and the urge to run to him was almost too powerful to resist.

Alarmed, Zell guided her out to the patio nearby to get some air. Squall's pull on her was so strong, he was all she could hear as they stepped outside and into the balmy, breezy night. Her mind flooded with thoughts that didn't belong to her, and she lost all sense of where she was as the sound of his voice grew louder.

She pressed her hands over her mouth and squeezed her eyes closed as she willed herself not to answer him back. His voice was so loud, so clear, and his pain was her pain, a sharp and physical agony, the claws of some awful beast shredded her from the inside, tearing apart her heart and her lungs and her very soul.

_She's not here, Leonhart. Don't be an idiot. I need to get out of here. It's too much. Too much. I just need to get a grip. It isn't real, and she isn't here and I just want this to stop. If you're here Rin, come find me. Please. Please come find me. I need you._

"I'm here, Squall," she whispered. "I'm here."

"Rin, don't call him!" Zell warned her. "You need to get out of here. Now, before he comes running."

"I have to... I can't," she said, wanting him to understand. "He's calling _me_. He knows I'm here."

Zell pressed something into her palm and closed her fingers around it.

"Just go," Zell said. "Take my keys and I'll meet you back at the house."

In the sky above the ocean, a streak of light crossed the darkness and Rinoa froze in her tracks. A single shooting star, a reminder of the last time she stood under a sky like this and caught the eye of the best-looking boy in the room.

* * *

Squall sensed her the second he walked in the door. Rinoa, somewhere, somewhere in this room, alive, well, breathing and so very here. He felt her as sure as he felt his own heartbeat throbbing in his fingertips.

He scanned the room for her, as crazy as it was, in search of familiar dark hair and a kind smile. She was here. His gut insisted, screamed-howled-thrashed with certainty. She was _here_.

Inwardly he groaned as Liz pushed her way through the crowd toward him. Along the way, she finished her glass of wine and grabbed another from the tray of a passing waitress.

Squall was not in the mood to deal with this right now, especially not if Liz was already a few drinks in. She had that _look_ on her face that meant she had some beef with him, and Squall didn't pretend to know what offense he'd committed this time, and he wasn't interested in starting a scene because she was too drunk to listen to reason.

"I'm surprised to see you here," she said and took a long swallow of her wine. "I figured you'd avoid this all together."

"Selphie made me come," he said shortly. "I didn't think you'd want to be here, either, considering who this is for."

"Ditto, Selphie," Liz said. "I didn't want to be here at all. That girl ruined our marriage, after all."

Squall stared at her and realized she was a lot more drunk than she seemed. Not once during the worst of their marriage did she out-right blame Rinoa for the way it ended.

"If you want to blame someone, blame me."

She finished the rest of the wine and set the glass aside. A waiter passed by and Liz accepted a glass of champagne.

"How many of those have you had?" he asked.

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Come on, Liz. I don't want to fight with you," he said. "Not right now."

"Oh, that's right. _She_ always comes first, doesn't she?" She lifted her glass in mock toast. "How can anyone compare?"

"It's a fucking memorial, Liz," Squall spat. "Have some respect."

Liz's laugh was bitter and without a trace of humor. Squall took the champagne from her hand and set it aside. She tended to over-indulge in social situations, but rarely to this level.

"Why don't you call a cab," Squall said. "And go home."

_Oh my god, I feel him...he's here._

Alarmed, Squall turned away from Liz as something like gravity pulled him toward the far end of the room. He was helpless under the force of her voice as it drew him in and he stepped toward it. She was here. Somewhere.

"Son? Are you okay?" Laguna asked as he stepped up beside Squall.

Laguna, still on suicide watch after Squall's three days of near catatonic despondency, peered at Squall with worry. Squall ignored it and took another step in the direction of her voice.

"She's here," Squall murmured.

"Who?"

"Rinoa. She's here. I can hear her."

"You have got to be kidding me," Liz muttered.

Laguna took Squall by the arm and attempted to steer him to the nearest table. Squall resisted and disengaged himself from his father's grip and pushed past groups of people engaged in senseless conversations. It was tough to keep from shoving them all out of his way, and her pull was so powerful, his feet moved independent of his mind.

Hyne, how he needed her. This was insanity, but he needed her.

In the back of his mind, the part of him that was still capable of rational thought screamed at him to stop, turn around and leave. No good could come of this.

He desperately wanted to believe. Seth insisted this was real, that it wasn't just a little boy's imagination.

But if none of it was real...

_I'm here, Squall. I'm here._

She couldn't really be here, but whatever force that drove him was too strong to fight. All his madness would be justified if she was on the other end of the connection. Seth's promises would be truth, and there had to be some truth in this. It couldn't just be Squall losing his mind.

He stepped outside onto the patio in time to see the heavens light up as a shooting star crossed the ink-dark sky. It was a sign, and his heart felt like it would explode from the nearness of her. She was close, so close, if he reached out, he could touch her.

But all he saw there on the patio was Zell and a young blonde woman.

The girl averted her eyes when Squall's gaze fell on her, and she bit down on a trembling lip as Squall stepped closer.

"She had too much to drink," Zell said. "I'm going to take her home."

Squall couldn't take his eyes off her. Blue eyes behind those thick, dark-framed glasses, and her hair was the wrong color, but he knew that face and that mouth and he was compelled to step forward and look closer.

She reached for something at her throat that wasn't there, the way Rinoa used to reach for her necklace.

_She's pretending to be someone else._

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I..uh," she murmured, then laughed nervously and turned her face to the ground.

That laugh haunted him in his dreams. He reached out to her with a trembling hand as she stood there, paralyzed and unable to look him in the eye.

The instant his fingers brushed against her cheek, a blistering jolt of energy shot through him and Squall nearly jumped out of his own skin. He _knew_ her.

She bolted away from him and tore back into the ballroom and disappeared into the crowd. Stunned, afraid and half-vindicated, Squall stood there and stared after her, but there was no doubt who she was.

Squall's feet moved toward the door on their own, and he brushed Zell's restraining hand away as he followed her. He shoved his way through the crowd to the door and broke into a sprint the second he hit the hallway. Behind him, Zell and Laguna called out for him, but he barely heard them. All he could hear was her.

* * *

Liz finished her seventh glass of wine for the evening and set it aside, just as a blonde girl bolted past her, moving as fast as her kitten heels would carry her. Only mildly fazed, Liz watched her go as bitter thoughts about Squall and his behavior reared their ugly heads.

This whole party was a joke and a mistake. It was no final goodbye, and Squall was not better off for coming.

When Squall blazed past her, following the blonde, Liz huffed in annoyance.

"Squall?" she called. "Where are you going?"

"Shit, shit, shit," Zell growled as he passed, following Squall out the door. "Liz, find Laguna!"

Squall was having another meltdown from the looks of it. Liz wiped away her tears and searched the crowd for Laguna. He was two tables away in an animated conversation with Selphie. She stumbled her way toward him, nearly tripped on her towering heels and dropped a hand against Laguna's arm.

"Lizzie? What's going on?"

"Squall," she managed. "He just left. Zell went after him. He's losing it again.."

Laguna set aside his juice and pushed past her toward the door.

"What can I do?" Liz called.

"Stay here," Laguna said. "I'll take care of it."

Stay there? No. No way.

Liz still loved him and wanted the best for him, in spite of everything. If there was some way she could help, anything she could do, she would do it.

She fished her keys out of her handbag, kicked off her heels and sprinted after Laguna. There was no sign of Squall or anyone else in the corridor or on the sidewalk outside the hotel. She climbed into her car and started it as she tossed her handbag into the passenger seat, and stepped on the gas. The car tore out of the parking space faster than she intended and she jerked the steering wheel to the left to merge onto the two lane road.

Liz was too drunk to be driving, and she knew it, but worry outweighed logic as she steered the car onto the road next to the park. She searched for any sign of Squall in the darkness

She didn't even see the man dart out in front of her car until it was too late.

* * *

Squall burst out onto the street in front of the hotel in search of the girl, but she was gone.

She'd been with Zell, so it stood to reason she was headed for Ma's place. He headed to the left and cut through the park, still caught in her gravitational pull. Her thoughts crashed into his and his eyes stung and burned with tears as he followed.

"Rinoa, if you can hear me," he said aloud, "please stop. Talk to me. Please."

A blonde wig lay on the ground in the middle of the field in the park. Further along, on the sidewalk, a pair of dark-framed glasses.

Seth was right. Squall was right. Rinoa Heartilly was alive. She was not the imaginary friend of a child, nor the hopeless fantasy of a madman. By some miracle, she was alive, and she was here, and everything would be fine once he found her.

When Squall reached the far end of the park, he glanced around for any sign of her, and stepped out into the street without looking.

He smashed into the hood of a car and rolled off into the street. He hit the pavement, and his head cracked against the concrete and his whole body was awash in pain. A sharp scream ripped through the night, but cut short with a heavy thud and a crack. His whole world was agony, blinding and sharp and it was hard to draw breath.

Try as he might, Squall couldn't get up and shake it off. Everything felt broken.

There was a familiar cry from above him and gentle hands on his face.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I just wanted to see you one last time. Hyne, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."

Squall couldn't see her, but he knew her voice. She'd come back to him, she was there to save him.

Her magic flowed into him and healed his cracked skull and broken bones and his broken heart, and when he opened his eyes, he knew the face above him. It was a face he never thought he would see again, never believed he would see again, and she was right there, her fingers in his hair, healing his wounds and her tears falling to his cheeks to mingle with his own.

His body was a mess of broken bones and scrapes, but for the first time in years, Squall Leonhart was whole.

* * *

Footsteps and voices approached as Rinoa cradled Squall's head in her hands. Her magic healed the worst of his wounds, but his eyes remained watery and unfocused and blood trailed from his nose.

"Don't leave," he murmured. "Please, don't leave me."

The footsteps grew closer and Rinoa he eased Squall back down onto the pavement. She couldn't be caught here and as she turned to run, she realized it was only Zell.

It was then she spied the driver, lying face-down on the concrete. The position of her body was unnatural, her head bent at a strange angle, and she didn't move. Rinoa couldn't see her face in the darkness, but Rinoa recognized the dark hair and the red satin and she pressed her hand to her lips to hold back a cry of dismay.

"Liz?" she called softly. "Can you hear me?"

Liz didn't move. She wasn't breathing.

Rinoa looked toward Zell, who was on his phone, barking some orders into it as he paced beside the car. She dropped to her knees, ready to cast her magic but she instinctively knew, Liz was a lost cause. There was no pulse but Rinoa tried anyway, letting her healing magic flow into Liz's body but nothing happened. She tried again, and again, but there was no response.

Liz Kadowaki-Leonhart was dead. Not even Full-Life brought her back.

Zell took Rinoa by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet. His hands wrapped around her wrists and gently pushed her back toward the sidewalk.

"You gotta make a choice," he said. "Either stay and let everyone know you're alive, or get on a train right now and go home."

What to do?

"Laguna's right behind me, so make a decision fast."

This was all her fault. Squall was wounded badly, Liz was dead or dying, and if Rinoa didn't leave now, someone else might get hurt. If she stayed, there was also the very real prospect of months and months of inquisition, possible imprisonment, and eventual sealing at the Sorceress Memorial. With things the way they were, her choices were a life on the run, sealing, or go back into hiding before it was too late.

How could she leave Squall like this? Wounded, bleeding...

Footsteps neared and Rinoa's time was up. She backed away as Laguna jogged up and stopped beside Liz and stared at her in horror. His eyes filled with tears, but as he glanced up, he spied Rinoa and they widened in shock.

"Rinoa?"

All she could do was nod and take another step back.

"Oh, my god... Rinoa?"

"Rin..." Zell warned. "Stay or go?"

She couldn't face them after this. If they saw through her disguise back at the party, or she slipped up and revealed her identity by mistake, that was one thing. A confession an easy solution, but her own stupidity caused this, and she decided to go, before anyone else got hurt.

"Please don't tell him I was here," she said to Laguna. "Please."

"You don't look a day older than the last time I saw you..." he said in wonder.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I never should have come. Please, you didn't see me here."

Then she turned on her heel and ran for Zell's house as fast as she could. Through tears, she fumbled with the keys at the door and dropped them twice before she fit the key in the lock.

Once inside, she gathered her things but stopped when she noticed the blood on her hands and arms. She bit back a sob and stripped off the ugly dress, turned on the shower and climbed inside. Under a scalding stream of water, she scrubbed the blood away.

This was her fault. All her fault.

She dressed in a plain t-shirt and jeans and shoved the rest of her things in her bag. Her hair soaked the shoulders of her shirt, but there was no time to dry it. She sprinted to the train station, bought a ticket for the next train out, and dialed Zell from a pay phone.

"Dincht."

"It's me. I'm so sorry," she cried into the phone.

"I won't say I told you so."

He was so angry. Rinoa prayed she hadn't lost his friendship. That would be the final straw, losing him too.

"I know this whole thing was stupid and I'm sorry."

"Where are you?"

"Train station," she said. "Maybe I should just disappear completely. I've already involved you and Seifer too much, so maybe it's best if I just -"

"Stop," Zell said. "Get on the train and go home, okay? I'll tell Seifer to pick you up in the morning."

Rinoa sobbed into the phone. Thank Hyne for Zell and his big, soft heart.

"For what it's worth, Rin, you saved his life," Zell said. "Maybe Liz, too."

She leaned against the wall and clutched the one tight in her hand. If only she wasn't so certain she would get away with it, that no one would recognize her. If only she stayed in Centra like Zell suggested, none of this would have happened.

The speaker overhead crackled to life as the call for boarding was made.

"I've got to go," she said. "I'm so sorry, Zell."

"See you in a few days, okay?"

The train car was nearly empty, the only other passenger an elderly woman who was already settling down for the long ride ahead. Rinoa chose a seat, curled up on it and threw Zell's hoodie over her head to block out the light.

She cried the whole way home.

* * *

Notes: Feedback is always welcome!


	11. Chapter 11

**Eleven**

* * *

Zell escaped into an alley across the street from the hospital after Quistis shared the news Liz wasn't expected to make it through the night. He vomited into a trash can and crouched down next to it with his head in his hands, shaking too hard to get back up.

Liz wasn't wearing her seat belt when she crashed into Squall. Rinoa's Life spell bought her time, maybe even enough to save her, but it didn't look good. Squall was in bad shape, but he was expected to make a full recovery, thanks to Rinoa's intervention.

He thought about calling Seifer, toyed with his phone for a while, but pocketed it and dropped his head into his hands again. It took a few minutes to collect himself, but eventually, he stood and dusted the dirt off his suit, then returned to the hospital waiting room.

They were all gathered in one corner, Selphie sobbing, and Quistis morose. Laguna sat by himself, massaging away a leg cramp. Seth sat next to him, his face turned to the floor.

Zell almost went back outside. This was his fault.

He looked up at the sound of high-heeled shoes against tile and braced himself for whatever bad news Quistis was about to share.

"Can I see you privately?"

In Ben's office, Zell flopped into a chair by the desk. Quistis' expression was business-like and cold, and Zell suspected this wasn't the kind of bad news that pertained to Squall or Liz.

A confrontation was the last thing he needed right now, but it was going to happen, one way or another, if not now, then later. Ben would figure out someone attempted to heal both of them, and if Ben knew, Quistis knew too and she was smart enough to put the pieces together.

"How long has she been back?" she asked.

"Who?"

"Don't play dumb. You know who I'm talking about."

There was no point in lying, no matter how much he didn't want to tell the truth. He couldn't lie to Quistis anyway. She knew enough to be dangerous if she was asking questions.

"Since Squall's overdose."

Quistis' eyes went wide.

"And you didn't think that maybe she was the reason why?" Quistis asked. "The timing's pretty suspect, don't you think?"

"She didn't want anyone to know," Zell snapped. "And you know what? Maybe Squall did it because he couldn't handle the pressure of his job anymore. Maybe he really _was_ too tired to realize he'd swallowed too many pills. Don't blame her for what he did to himself. She didn't force them down his throat."

"I'm not saying that," Quistis said. "I'm just trying to understand why you'd keep this a secret. This is a huge deal, Zell. It could get you in a lot of trouble."

"It was _her_ choice, Quistis," Zell said. "She didn't want to interfere with anyone's life. And I totally get why. What the hell would you have done if you were in her shoes?"

"I honestly don't know, since I don't even know how this happened," Quistis said. "She's been with you and Seifer in Centra this whole time?"

"Yeah."

"And you didn't think maybe the rest of us would have liked to know?"

"I already told you, she didn't want anyone to know," Zell said. "Are you not listening?"

"I'm listening Zell, I'm just trying to figure out what the hell happened."

"Like hell you are," Zell said. "You want to put the blame on her. Well, let me tell you something, this hasn't been easy for her. She came back to find out everyone thinks she's dead. All she wanted to do tonight was say goodbye to that old life."

"And Liz might die because of it."

"Liz was stupid enough to get into a car drunk without her seatbelt on."

"You must have known something would happen."

Zell crossed his arms and glared at his shoes. This was why he didn't want to bring her in the first place, except his biggest worry at the time was discovery, not tragedy.

"Yeah, I figured he might pick up on it," Zell said. "But I didn't think he'd be able to pick her out in a crowd. It's been ten years, Quis. How was I supposed to know they'd pull each other in that way?"

"So you take no responsibility for this?"

"I feel like shit about it," he said. "But you remember what she was like. I figured it would be better to come as a chaperone rather than have her show up here anyway and do whatever."

"Clearly that wasn't the best choice."

Zell stood and ground his teeth at her tone. He wasn't one of her students, nor was he under her command anymore and he refused to sit here and be talked down to.

"Where do you get off talking to me like that?" he demanded. "You aren't my mother and you aren't my boss, so save your lecture."

Quistis burst into tears and turned away from him. She slumped into Ben's chair and wiped her eyes.

"I didn't want to believe I was right, but I knew something was up."

"Was it the shitty disguise?"

"The Shooting Star on the dresser in your photos," she said. "And the way she reacted to what Liz said about hating her."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"How was I supposed to?" Quistis asked. "After everything Liz went through with Squall, it seemed like a really cruel thing to do. They were trying to work things out."

Zell didn't know that part, but it seemed like something Squall would do for Seth's sake rather than a genuine desire to reconcile. It was a relationship that was doomed from the start in Zell's opinion, not due to a lack of love so much as how wrong they were for each other. The things Liz wanted and needed from the marriage were things Squall couldn't give her, and Squall cut himself off emotionally, in spite of all Liz's effort to love him harder each time he pushed her away.

If Zell saw that, way back when, why didn't anyone else see it?

"If you'd said something, I would have made her leave right then," Zell said, "and Squall probably wouldn't have found her. So while we're placing blame, technically you own some of it too, for not speaking up."

"You're blaming me?!"

"I'm blaming everyone. You, me, Seifer, Rinoa, Liz, Squall, even Selphie for throwing this fucking party in the first place! We all played our part, so get off my back!"

Zell regretted his tone, but not his words. No one was entirely at fault, and he didn't like being blamed for other people's choices. Whatever Squall's reasons for swallowing thirty sleeping pills, and whatever Liz's reasons for getting in the car drunk, those things did not rest solely on one person's shoulders. Even if the decision to come was misguided, it wasn't fair to point all the fingers at a heartbroken seventeen year old girl who just wanted to move on.

* * *

Laguna stared down at his former daughter-in-law and wiped tears from his eyes. Even after the divorce, he thought of her as family, the daughter he never had. Over the years, Laguna saw his share of heartbreak and premature goodbyes, but it never got easier.

Machines forced her heart to beat and her lungs to breathe, but she wasn't really alive anymore. Her brain waves were flat and no matter how much curative medicine administered, the broken bones in neck and back didn't heal.

The machines would be turned off a short time from now, per Dr. Kadowaki's decision, and nature would take its course.

At his side, Seth stared quietly at his mother, somber and silent, his tiny hand clenched tight around Laguna's. When Laguna picked him up and sent the babysitter home, Seth was already crying, as if he already knew. There were no tears now, just sorrow and silence as he stood at the bedside and watched machines keep his mother alive.

Seth let go of his hand and climbed into the bed beside Liz's still form and Laguna let him. The boy threw his arm around her waist and dropped his head to her shoulder, careless of the tubes and wires and machines. He whispered something in her ear, so softly Laguna couldn't make out the words. Saying his goodbyes, Laguna guessed.

He rubbed Seth's back and petted his soft hair and wished there was some way to change this. Some magic or curative or some kind of divine intervention or GF he could call upon, something, anything, that might fix her.

After a while, Seth climbed from the bed and rejoined Laguna.

"I can't save her," Seth said. "I can never save her. She always does this."

Laguna's brow furrowed as he looked down at his grandson's frustrated, indignant expression. A shudder passed through him, spooked by Seth's certainty. A twinge of pain shot through Laguna's leg.

_I can never save her._

Whatever that meant, it chilled Laguna to the bone.

A pair of doctors entered the room. One nodded at Laguna. It was time to say goodbye.

He dropped one last kiss on Liz's forehead and his eyes began to burn with unshed tears.

"Bye, Lizzy. Say hello to Raine for me."

Seth reclaimed his hand as they turned for the door, his cheeks dry but his eyes rimmed red.

"Can we go see dad now?"

"Sure," Laguna said. "He's probably still asleep."

Squall's face was a mess of abrasions and bruises, his eyes swollen, and an oxygen mask was strapped over his nose and mouth. He would live, but they didn't know how long it would take him to recover. Immediate treatment at the scene partially healed a life-threatening head injury, his broken ribs, a wrist that was fractured in two places and a punctured lung.

If not for that magic, Squall would have died, too.

Laguna knew who was responsible for saving him. He lied to the doctors and said Zell provided first aid and potions at the scene, but he saw Rinoa with his own eyes, as impossible as it seemed.

The father in him wanted to tell Squall the truth. Keeping her secret might drive him to madness, but the truth might ruin both their lives. If word got out she was alive, she would be hunted down and treated like a criminal though she'd done nothing wrong. Squall, whether he wanted to or not, would follow her to the ends of the earth, to hell and back, and he'd burn down the world to keep her safe if that's what it took.

Laguna barely knew her. They met only briefly, prior to Time Compression, but he remembered the way Squall looked at her. Love, bordering on obsession. And he hadn't forgotten the way he looked when only five of the six came back. Nor the way the light in his eyes died little by little until his stare was as empty as the one he once pretended.

Rinoa's extended absence and unexpected reappearance was suspicious, and Laguna didn't understand how or why, but a life in hiding wasn't a fate he wished upon either of them.

Seth took Squall's hand, and his magic flowed from his fingertips and into Squall. Laguna held his breath, amazed as the abrasions healed before his eyes. The bruises faded from violent purple and blue to sickly green-yellow, and the swelling around his eyes eased. In a day or so, there would be no trace left of his injuries.

Impossible that someone so small could be so powerful. Laguna wasn't sure if he believed Seth received his power in a dream as the boy claimed, but couldn't discount it, either. If the last few days taught him anything, it was that the world was full of strange, improbable and fantastic things.

When the magic dissipated, color returned to Squall's cheeks, and his face wasn't quite so battered.

"He'll wake up soon," Seth said. "But I couldn't fix his heart. Magic can't fix that."

"What do you mean?"

Seth's expression turned sour and he shook his head.

"Why is she leaving?" Seth asked. "We need her. _I_ need her."

That was another strange thing about the kid: he often countered a question with a question of his own.

"I don't know what you mean, kiddo."

"Rinoa."

There was no way Seth could know Rinoa was there or that she left, but he somehow did. There were too many things Seth knew that he shouldn't, and too many questions that had no answers. His gut said these things were all connected, but if they were, the reasons had yet to reveal themselves.

As he gathered Seth into his lap and settled in for the night, Laguna wondered what it was about the men in his family, always losing the women they loved.

* * *

After his argument with Quistis, Zell took a long walk around Balamb to clear his head. It took almost an hour to calm down, and he was so angry, he had to resist the urge to punch things along the way.

Eventually, he found his way to the waterfront and lay down on a bench to stare up at the sky. He wished he'd just told Selphie to get bent when she called about the memorial. It wasn't like any of them did much to honor Rinoa's memory after the first year. It was just another excuse for Selphie to throw a party.

Selphie barely remembered Rinoa, except for a handful of photos and stories about the war. Irvine remembered even less. For most people, Rinoa Heartilly was a footnote or an unsolved mystery or a mysterious threat. Just because a decade passed since she disappeared, that was no reason to celebrate.

When his phone rang, he knew it was Seifer without looking. It was late, and Zell was surprised he was still up, but he accepted the call, glad to hear a friendly voice.

"How bad is it, shithead?"

"This was the worst idea _ever_, Almasy."

"Is this just you being over-dramatic or did she actually get caught?"

Zell gave a shortened version of events and ignored the way his voice cracked with emotion. Seifer listened without interruption as Zell ranted about the night's events and everything that followed.

"I warned both of you that this was a bad idea and neither of you wanted to listen."

"Zell, we couldn't have known it would play out this way," Seifer said. "It's not your fault."

"I should have made her leave. I should have made her go home," he said. "I knew this was going to happen."

"You _didn't_ know," Seifer said. "And this was her choice. She was warned and she went anyway. That's not on you."

Zell wiped his eyes and sniffled.

"Sure as hell feels like it."

"Where is Rin now?"

"On a train."

"You told her she's still welcome here, right?"

"Yeah. She knows that."

There was a long pause before Seifer spoke again.

"Do_ I _need to get on a train, Zell? Say the word and I will."

"No," Zell said, wishing to Hyne he could say yes, "I'll probably be back before you can get here anyway."

"She's probably going to be a wreck when you pick her up," Zell said. "Just a heads up."

"I'll get her nice and drunk and let her wallow and cry or whatever."

"Thanks."

"No problem," Seifer said. "And when you get back, I'll let you do the same, except I'll fuck you senseless and call you a crybaby."

Zell laughed and wiped away his tears. That was exactly what would happen, and Zell looked forward to it.

"You're such an asshole."

"Yeah, but you love me don't you?"

Cocky, like he already knew it was truth. And it was, but Zell wouldn't say it over the phone, or maybe ever. Just because it was true, it didn't mean he needed to put it out there.

"I hate your guts, Almasy."

"Feeling's mutual, shithead."

"By the way, Quistis knows. We got into it," Zell said. "Might'a yelled at her. Probably dis-invited to the wedding."

"Don't sweat it. She'll get over it."

"I'm sick'a being in other people's weddings anyway," he said as he sat up. "Making stupid, bullshit speeches and toasting the happy couple, blah, blah, _blah_, when everybody knows they're going to get divorced within five years anyway, so what's the point?"

Zell got up and started walking again. He still wore his suit, but he didn't care if he ruined it or not. If he could get away with it, he would never wear one again.

"That's a very pessimistic way to look at it," Seifer said, amused. "You're not a pessimist."

"Yeah, maybe not," Zell said. "Still the truth."

"If I ever walk that plank, it'll be for keeps," Seifer said. "I can guarantee that."

"I just don't see what the fuss is all about," Zell said. "Does a ring and a piece of paper really make a difference? I mean, as far as I can tell, all that does is ruin a good thing."

"Hmm. You never know where life will take you, Dincht. You may be surprised," Seifer said, uncharacteristically thoughtful. "Believe me, things never turn out the way you expect them to."

"Why the hell are we talking about this?" Zell asked.

"Just talking," Seifer said. "Don't get it in your head I'm thinking about proposing or some stupid shit like that. I'm just saying, some day, you may change your mind."

"You're being weird, Almasy," Zell said. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Enough," Seifer admitted. "Half past shit-faced if you must know."

"Ahh. Philosophical drunk," Zell said. "I get it now."

"Can I ask you a serious question while I'm drunk enough to ask without feeling like a sentimental idiot?"

"Depends if I can make fun of you for it or not."

"Oh, you're a real sweetheart, Dincht," Seifer said. "Never mind."

Zell laughed and kicked at a rock on the sidewalk. "What is it?"

"Nope. Ruined the moment."

"Oh, come on!" Zell said. "You can't say something like that and then not spill it."

There was silence on the other end of the line. Zell stepped off the sidewalk and onto the beach and plopped down in the sand.

"Okay, you ready?" Seifer finally asked.

"Hit me with it."

"You ever get tired of being a chicken _and_ a wuss? Must be exhausting being both at the same time."

"Get outta here," Zell said, laughing. "That is _not_ what you were going to ask."

"No. It wasn't, but now I'm embarrassed, so you'll have to wait."

"Have another drink and try again."

"That is a very good idea, seeing as my drink is not full anymore."

Zell snorted back a laugh and pulled his shoes and socks off and stuffed his feet into the soft, cool sand and wiggled his toes in it.

"What the hell am I going to do with you?"

"You can get your ass on the next train back here is what you can do. Miss your stupid face."

Drunken Seifer was admitting to a _lot_ more than sober Seifer ever would. There was a lot they both never said, things Zell knew to be fact, but hearing he was missed was surprisingly..._touching_.

"That's the second time in twenty four hours that you've admitted to missing me," Zell said. "What's that about?"

"That is me being a sentimental idiot, Dincht," Seifer said. "You know I'm a fucking closet romantic."

"Are you now?"

"I have a surprise for you."

"Knowing you it's a shitload of dead spiders in a paper bag," Zell said.

Seifer's drunken giggle was so funny, Zell vowed that as soon as he got back, he was going to get Seifer really, really drunk just so he could hear it in person and ridicule the hell out of him for it.

There was a clattering sound, followed by Seifer's baritone laugh and a soft curse. Seifer was drunker than Zell realized if he was knocking stuff over. Even after several beers, Seifer was usually pretty coordinated. Zell was the one that bumped into things and fell down.

"How much have you had to drink?" Zell asked.

"Don't you worry your pretty little chicken head about it."

"Aww, you think I'm pretty?"

"You are fuckin' _beautiful_," Seifer said earnestly. "A beautiful idiot chicken head."

It wasn't often Seifer got this smashed, and it was funny as hell. It was also disgustingly sincere. Seifer would regret saying these things tomorrow and might even deny he ever said them, but Zell planned to give him hell once he sobered up.

"Goddamn, Almasy. You are _really_ shitfaced right now aren't you?"

"I already told you I was. Why the fuck aren't you here?"

"You know why, and I should really go," Zell said. "Need to get back to the hospital."

"Wait, wait, wait," Seifer said. "Serious question time."

"Okay. Ask."

"Promise you won't laugh."

"No promises," Zell said. "Ask the damned question."

There was another long pause, build up for another goofy question, Zell suspected.

"Do you love me?"

Zell was _stunned_. He didn't expect a real question, and definitely not a question like this. He bit his lip and pressed a hand over his mouth, unsure if this was a joke or not.

"Because I'm pretty fucking sure I love you," Seifer said plainly. "So say it back or tell me to fuck off or whatever. Just say something."

Zell's chest hurt, but not in an unpleasant way. This was supposed to be one of those unspoken things, one that maybe they both knew and never bothered to say.

It was a _big_ deal.

But Zell was unable to say it back. If he ever admitted aloud, it would be in person.

"I think you're drunk and talking out of your head," Zell said, his voice gone hoarse. "Say it to my face when you're sober and I'll believe you."

"Are you calling me a coward?"

"No, I'm calling you drunk. And stupid."

"I might never say it again."

"That's okay," Zell said. "If you mean it, you'll say it again. If not, no worries."

"You're breaking my heart."

"Didn't know you had a heart to break."

"You're cold, Dincht," Seifer said. "Last time I put it all out there."

"Probably not," Zell said. "Go sleep it off, ya bastard."

Something in the background fell over or crashed to the floor and Zell just shook his head.

"When are you coming back, stupid?"

"In a couple days. I have to go to a funeral, I guess. I'll let you know."

"Okay. Love you, shithead," Seifer said and giggled again.

"Goodnight, asshole."

Zell grinned to himself as he pocketed his phone and headed back toward the hospital.

_Love, huh?_

In the hospital lobby, his mood turned from joyful to somber as he remembered why he was here. Selphie lay with her head in Irvine's lap and Quistis sat primly by herself in a corner. She turned her face away as Zell slid into a chair across from her.

"Irvine, why don't you take Selphie home?" Quistis suggested.

"I think that is a good idea," Irvine said. "We'll stop by in the morning, okay?"

"You should go get some sleep, too," Zell told Quistis. "I can hang out for a while."

"I'm fine to stay. I'm waiting for Ben to finish up."

Irvine lifted Selphie into his arms, said his goodbyes and carried her out the door.

"I'm really sorry I lost my temper with you," Quistis said. "This is all so upsetting..."

"You're forgiven," Zell said. "I wasn't exactly on my best behavior."

"So what's she going to do now?"

"Stay with us, I guess," Zell said. "We love having her there, so it's cool."

"Seifer's okay with this?"

"Yeah, It's like having a little sister around," Zell said. "And it's not like she has anywhere else to go."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, their eyes drawn to the tiny TV in the corner of the room. A Galbadian news channel, the topic a proposed continent-wide search for Sorceresses. Zell's stomach twisted as he imagined some witch hunt similar to Adel's hunt for a successor.

"Why did you go see him so often?" Quistis asked. "When he was in prison?"

"Don't know. I just did," Zell said with a shrug. "At first, it was just to get some answers, but then it started to feel like something I had to do."

There was more to it than that, but Zell didn't feel like getting into the particulars of why he'd bothered. It was too complicated to explain, and Quistis might be offended by if he told her it sometimes felt like Seifer was the only person in the world that seemed to understand him.

"I hope he appreciates the time you spent doing that."

"He's paid me back tenfold," Zell said. "I have something I've never had before."

Quistis searched his face, as if trying to discern what that meant.

"You're planning on staying down there for good, aren't you?"

"Why not?" Zell said. "You want to know the truth, Quistis? It's the only place I've ever really felt like I belonged."

Tears came to Quistis' eyes and she wiped them away.

"What about your Ma?"

"I meant, more like there's finally someone in this world who gets me," he said. "I never had to tell him anything, or explain myself. He just knew."

"You never talked to us about the things you were going through," she said. "You know I would have listened."

"I know," he said. "But, everyone was so busy doing their own thing, getting married, and building careers and all I wanted was for things to feel like they used to, like we were a family."

Quistis studied him, then moved to the chair beside him and offered a hug.

"Part of growing up, I guess," she said. "Everyone goes in different directions."

"No," Zell said. "It's because Rinoa wasn't there to hold us all together."

* * *

Rinoa arrived on the morning train after a long, sleepless night. She cried for Squall and Liz and Seth, and even for her father and his confusion, until she couldn't cry anymore. Her fault for showing up, for disappearing. Now their lives were a wreck, and she was the reason.

A bleary-eyed Seifer waited for her on the platform in Capetown. He took her bag and threw an arm around her shoulders as he walked her to the truck. He didn't say anything, didn't lecture, and that somehow only made it worse. She wished someone would yell at her and tell her what an idiot she was for thinking she could get away with it.

They were halfway home before Seifer spoke.

"You okay?"

"No."

She should have left the second she suspected Quistis recognized her. Maybe then, none of it would have happened.

"I'm so stupid," she said.

"Impulsive and reckless," Seifer said. "But not stupid."

They pulled into the driveway and Rinoa climbed from the truck, exhausted and in need of sleep, but if she closed her eyes, she would see Liz, broken on the pavement, and Squall, bleeding and shaking and his eyes bright with pain.

She dumped her things on the floor beside the door and went to the fridge for something to drink. One step ahead of her, Seifer retrieved a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet and poured two glasses.

"Don't argue, just drink it."

She picked up the glass and knocked the whole thing back, wincing at the burn in her chest as it went down. She set the glass on the counter and Seifer immediately poured her another.

Her insides ached as though she'd swallowed a mouthful of broken glass and her heart hurt as she thought of one or both of them dying. What would happen to Seth?

"I feel like such a bad person," she murmured. "I should never have gone. I should have just stayed here."

"Maybe," Seifer agreed. "But it's too late to change it."

His tone was harsh, but it was honest, and he was right. Wishing for a different outcome would change nothing.

"Instead of worrying about what you did or didn't do, worry about what you're _going_ to do," Seifer said. "That's the only way to move on."

What she wanted, she couldn't have. She didn't deserve forgiveness, not after popping back into Squall's life long enough to tear it apart, and she resolved to cut herself off from him completely. It was for the best that she didn't let him in, no matter how tempting it was.

"I want to show you something," Seifer said. "Bring your drink with you."

She followed him the the back room and she gasped as he flicked on the light. Floor to ceiling mirrors were installed all along the interior wall and a heavy square mat lay in the center of the room. Two heavy bags hung from a beam at the far end of the room, along with a pair of speed bags. Boxing gloves and various kinds of equipment were displayed on a rack beside the door.

Rinoa sipped her drink and looked around, amazed by how fast Seifer put all this together.

"What do you think?"

"He's going to love it."

"You think?"

"Definitely."

He leaned against the door frame and surveyed the work with a bit of smug satisfaction. When he returned his gaze to Rinoa, that smugness turned to sadness.

"I hope you know you're welcome here," Seifer said.

Rinoa threw an arm around his waist and leaned her cheek against his chest. She was too tired to cry, but it was good to have someone solid to hold onto until the urge to bawl passed.

When she let him go, she sipped her drink and took another look around the room.

"What do you plan to do with it?" she asked. "Just an indoor space to knock the crap out of each other or what?"

"No, actually, I was thinking we'd open a studio," he said. "Rumor is, Zell's a pretty good teacher."

Rinoa smiled up at him and he hooked an arm around her shoulders as they looked around the room together.

"I knew there was a nice guy hiding behind all that bravado," she said.

* * *

When Squall woke the next morning in the hospital, he remembered everything. Or at least he thought he did. His memory conflicted with Laguna's story, and he wasn't sure what to believe. Laguna told him everything he knew about the accident, from beginning to end while Seth climbed into bed with him and promptly fell asleep in his arms.

He was certain Zell wasn't the one who healed him. His memory of that was crystal clear. Powerful magic, flowing into him, the prickling sensation of wounds and bones knitting back together, her face above him, her gentle touch. Squall knew the difference between curatives and magic.

Zell wasn't junctioned and hadn't been in years. It wasn't Zell's first-aid skills and potions that saved him. It was magic. _Her_ magic.

As Laguna excused himself, Squall closed his eyes and reached for her, seeking her out, in need of an explanation of where she'd been all these years and why she left and where she was now. He sensed she was far away, no longer in Balamb.

"_Rinoa is dead, Squall. She doesn't exist anymore."_

It was a lie. No matter what Laguna said, she was there last night.

When he tried again, the force in which she rejected him was almost painful. A sharp blaze cut across his forehead and he could swear the clock on the wall ticked louder than before.

For a while, he lay there with Seth in his arms, and tried to process it all. He and Liz had their share of differences, but he cared about her, and even loved her in his own way.

How could she be so stupid? She knew better, and now Seth was without a mother. Squall wanted more time with his son, but not this way.

The funeral was in two days time. Laguna said he and Dr. Kadowaki were working on the arrangements, the reception to be held at the house after. Squall hated that idea, if only because it meant Seth would be exposed to too many well-meaning but potentially damaging comments about his mother's death. Death was a part of life, something Seth would learn too soon, but that didn't mean he needed to suffer more than he already was.

Seth woke a little while later and murmured something about Rinoa as his eyes fluttered open.

"Why did you let her leave?" Seth whispered sleepily. "We need her."

"Shhh," Squall said, smoothing back the boy's hair. "Go back to sleep."

"She didn't mean for anyone to get hurt."

"I know, buddy," he said. "Hey, why don't you let your granddad take you home so you can sleep in your own bed?"

"I just want to stay here for a little bit longer," Seth said, nuzzling his shoulder. "Is that okay?"

"Of course, kiddo."

Seth settled back down and Squall held him as tight as his battered body would allow.

"Where are we going to live?"

"Well, we can stay at the house, or we can live with Laguna, if you want," Squall said. "It's up to you."

"We should live with granddad," Seth said. "He'll be all alone if we leave. We make him happy, and he doesn't say it, but sometimes his heart hurts real bad because the people he loves always leave him."

That was something they had in common, didn't they? They might be as different as the sun and moon, but they were alike in that respect. They both knew and understood that kind of loss. Except Laguna was always the one to leave first. Whether by circumstance or accident, Laguna was no innocent when it came to taking off.

"You hurt that way, too," Seth said. "Your heart hurts all the time, doesn't it? That's why you're sad all the time."

Squall bit down on the inside of his cheek and dropped his face into Seth's hair.

"We should be a family," Seth said.

"I think we should too, buddy."

* * *

Seth closes his eyes and concentrates and finds himself on the beach of a place he will someday know well. He's seen it in all states of repair, from a crumbled, moldering ruin hidden beneath weeds and grass, to a beautiful ocean-front home, to a wasted skeleton with a set of chains leading into the sky. He knows this place from times when it was forgotten, and he knows it when it was loved.

Behind him, the weathered lighthouse stands tall, and though it is daylight, its broken beacon shines bright and beats out a pulsing code before it fades back into darkness.

She is there, sitting in the sand where he expects her to be and he crosses the beach until he arrives at her side and sits. He shouldn't be here, but there are things he needs to say to her before it's too late. Her eyes are wide in fear and confusion as she stares at him. She knows he shouldn't be here, but Seth digs at the sand with his boot and stares at the waves as they crash against the shore.

"Am I dreaming?" she asks.

"No," he says. "I think I am."

She blinks rapidly at him. She doesn't understand, but then again, no one understands and Seth doesn't know how to say what he's come to say. He's only five, and there are still a lot of words he needs to learn.

But this is important.

"She would have died anyway," Seth says. "Two weeks from now. A year. It always happens, and I can't change it."

He grinds his small fists against his eyes and she says nothing. Rinoa's hand lands lightly on his shoulder but she pulls it back a second later and stares at him.

"You look so much like your father."

"I know," he says. "Everybody says that."

Seth can't stay too long, but he wishes he could stay here forever. It's quiet and calm, and she is here, and in two days they will bury his mother in the dirt and say their prayers and there's nothing he can do to fix it. Seth has seen it a dozen times over, a hundred times maybe, and this time is the final goodbye. He's lost her for good and if he isn't careful, he'll lose his father, too.

"How did you get here?" she asks. "I don't understand."

"It's just a thing I can do," he says.

He turns his eyes on her and searches her face. He senses the power within her and it is a pale blue glow all around her body. She is strong, but she doesn't know it yet. She fears what she is and what she could do, and Seth senses a darkness that could easily become corruption if she lets it.

Her eyes swim over him as she senses his power in return. He's always wondered...

"What color is it?" he asks. "I'm glowing, right?"

"...red," she says.

Seth nods. Red is power and passion and blood. It's a strong color, and his favorite.

Adel was red, too. Edea, purple. Aunt Ellone, though she's not a Sorceress, is a soft blue-green.

"You're blue, like the sky," he informs her.

"What are you?"

"Same as you."

She is afraid. Seth takes her hand and wills her to feel the kinship between them, to see him as an ally, not an enemy.

The rest of the world will see them that way, and there are bad things coming, bad things that could destroy Seth's dream of peace and family. He needs her on his side, his father needs her to be whole again, he is dying inside without her and she is the only one who can fix his broken heart.

"I need your help, Rinoa," he says. "I messed up, and I need you to help me fix it."

"What?"

Time grows short, his father will wake up soon.

"I'll see you soon, Rinoa."

He stands and turns toward the lighthouse and sees the beacon pulse once more. Then he steps back into a hospital room in Balamb, where his father sleeps soundly, unaware Seth ever left his side.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Twelve**_

* * *

The funeral was a grim affair, as all funerals were, and the unseasonably warm weather only worsened Squall's discomfort. Warm sunshine beat down on his shoulders, and a sheen of sweat beaded on his brow as he tugged at his tie. Under his suit jacket, he was melting.

At his side, Seth held onto his hand, stoic and grown-up in his matching, miniature version of Squall's suit. The boy watched the proceedings in silence, like he'd seen it a thousand times before, and remained dry-eyed and somber and unmoved by all the sorrow around him.

Squall was surprised Seth so easily accepted death as final. He understood it meant his mother was gone forever, and she wasn't coming back.

As the service came to a close, Dr. Kadowaki came to them. She hugged Squall tight and offered a few kind words before she turned to Seth with a gentle smile.

"You look very handsome," she said as she straightened his tie.

"Thank you," Seth said politely. "You look pretty, too, grandma."

She fussed over Seth for a minute and smoothed down his hair before she stood and faced Squall again.

"How are you feeling?" she asked. "Any pain?"

Always the doctor, even when she was grieving herself.

"Much better, thanks," Squall said. "How are you holding up?"

"As well as can be expected," she said. "Laguna tells me the two of you will be staying with him for the time being."

"I figure it's best for Seth to be with family right now," Squall said. "Laguna missed a lot. It'll give them a chance to get to know one another better."

"I agree. Family should stick together," Dr. Kadowaki said.

"You're welcome to stop by any time, you know," Squall said. "I'm not always the best company, but I'm sure Laguna will talk enough for the both of us."

Dr. Kadowaki smiled and patted his shoulder.

"I wouldn't expect any different, son."

Back at the house, Squall suffered through all the condolences and the hand shaking and the sympathy. He hated everything about it and he eventually found himself outside on the patio, as far away from the groups of people as he could get.

He was furious with Liz for making such a stupid choice. It wasn't the first time she thoughtlessly got behind the wheel after having too many drinks, but borne from love and concern or not, she should have known better, and it cost her dearly.

At least Seth wasn't in the car with her when it happened. That was Squall's only consolation.

He stared out at the turquoise sea below and wondered what to do next. His tenure as Garden Commander was done, something that proved a blessing in the end. He was now a single father, and his son the only Sorcerer ever known to mankind as far as Squall could tell. Without a job to report to in the morning, he could spend time with Seth and figure out what to do next.

It was Rinoa he thought of as he watched the waves crash into the rocks below. Where she might be, where she'd gone. He suspected Zell knew the truth, but Squall wasn't sure where to start or what questions to ask, or even if Zell would answer truthfully.

Selfish, to think of Rinoa at a time like this, and unfair to Liz's memory. Yet he couldn't stop thinking about her. Ten whole years of waiting, of believing her a ghost, a madness he couldn't fight - didn't she know, she was killing him?

Laguna joined him on the patio and took a seat at a small table nearby, clutching a glass of something that was most decidedly not juice. In his other hand was a bottle of whiskey. He set the bottle on the table and pushed it in Squall's direction. Squall was already three glasses in to a bottle of whiskey and he didn't plan to stop any time soon. Apparently, neither did Laguna.

For once, he didn't mind his father's company. A lot of the time, Laguna didn't know when to shut up, but now was not one of those times. Squall joined him at the table and poured himself a drink and the two sat not speaking for a while.

Strange, after all this time, after all these years spent avoiding a relationship with the man, Squall could no longer picture a life without Laguna in it.

He turned his gaze back to the ocean as he sipped his drink, and before his eyes, the turquoise water turned slate blue, and the rocks below changed to a burnt red and black, before they faded back to the familiar ultramarine and gray of Balamb.

She was somewhere near the ocean. Feet in the sand, with the wind in her hair.

But she was no longer here, and she pushed him back every time she sought her out.

"You ever think maybe Seth's right?" Squall asked. "About her being back?"

"He could be, son."

"I know what I saw," Squall said. "I'm not crazy."

"Maybe you should take Seth's advice," Laguna said enigmatically. "Even if you're wrong, and Seth's wrong, at least you'll know."

"I don't think she wants me to find her."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because, it feels like she just wants to be left alone."

* * *

Rinoa wandered up and down the beach, from the rocky point below the lighthouse to the cliffs south of the orphanage. Even now, she wasn't sure if Seth's visit was a dream or not. She was sure she was wide awake at the time, but it was impossible for him to be what he claimed, impossible for such a small child to cross such a vast distance on his own, even _with_ magic.

Never mind that he was a boy.

Yet, Rinoa sensed power in him when she met him in the part, didn't she? That he was something different, something more than just a little boy. Something older and stronger and more terrifying than he seemed.

So, she walked the beach and the cliffs and waited for him to come back and all the while, tried to keep Squall out of her head. He tried and tried, and it was hard to ignore his pleas and his pain and she told herself it was for the best. No good could come of inviting him in or revealing herself. She already caused enough trouble.

Seifer didn't ask questions and spent the majority of his time finishing up the studio. In the evenings, they watched the news in silence over bowls of soup and sandwiches.

"_In other news, all Galbadian residents with non para-magic related abilities are now required to register their status with the newly founded Bureau of Occult Magic. While the new initiative is said to be a research and development collaboration with the University of Galbadia, many opponents feel this new program is just the beginning of another witch hunt."_

Rinoa glanced at Seifer, who stopped eating to stare at the television in mid-chew. He cast a knowing look in her direction and turned the volume up.

"_It isn't unlike Adel's search for a successor, but now the government will have the names and addresses of those with chi magic or unusual abilities or Sorceresses previously in hiding,"_ a magical rights advocate said. _"It's a violation of those individual's privacy to expect them to come forward after years of persecution and fear of those abilities."_

"It's bullshit is what it is," Seifer said.

"_General Caraway of the G-Army has previously warned the threat of a new Sorceress is imminent," _the newscaster said_, "Caraway's daughter, Sorceress Rinoa Heartilly disappeared ten years ago following her participation in a joint operation between Esthar and SeeD to defeat an unnamed Sorceress. Her body was never found. Caraway believes his daughter's Successor will soon make herself known, and perhaps solve the mystery of what happened to Sorceress Rinoa."_

"Ten years, and they can't let you just be fuckin' dead," Seifer muttered. He stood up and brushed crumbs from his lap. "You want another sandwich?"

"No, thank you," she said.

Seifer returned a minute later, he handed her half a sandwich, wrapped in a paper towel.

"Eat it," he said and took a bite of his own. "You skipped breakfast."

"_Any individuals with unusual, natural magical abilities are required to register by the end of the month,"_ the newscaster said. _"Those who fail to do so could face fines and imprisonment."_

Seifer threw his balled up napkin at the screen and cursed.

"Imprison people who just wanna live their lives in peace," he said. "Shit never changes, does it?"

* * *

Zell left Balamb right after the funeral, and he didn't sleep a wink on the train. By the time he arrived in Centra, he was exhausted and emotionally drained and all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep for the next two days.

In the bedroom, he dropped his bag by the closet and flopped onto the bed to stare tiredly at the ceiling. It might be better to get up and find something to work on, but the last few days took their toll on him.

"Want a beer, shithead?" Seifer asked from the doorway.

"No," Zell said. "Maybe. No."

Seifer came further into the room and kicked the door shut, then slid onto the bed beside him. He propped his head up on his palm and looked down at Zell, brow furrowed. Four days of gingery stubble covered Seifer's cheeks and chin, in sharp contrast with the sun-bleached blonde upon his head. Zell ran his fingers over it and remembered how much he liked the rough scratch of stubble against his skin.

"Looks weird," Zell commented.

"Your face is weird."

"You mean the face you missed so much?" Zell asked with a sleepy grin.

"Shut it, chicken head."

"That's _beautiful_ chicken head to you."

Seifer pushed back up into a sitting position and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

"If you're gonna be stupid, I'm outta here," he said.

"Get back here," Zell said as he burrowed his face into his pillow. "It's too early to sleep. Keep me awake."

Seifer crawled back onto the bed and dropped his head on Zell's pillow.

"Decide on that beer or what?"

"Nah," Zell said. "It'll just put me to sleep."

"Need to talk about it? Funeral and shit?"

"Not really," Zell said. "All I've done is think about it."

A big, rough hand landed against his cheek and a second later, warm, eager lips pressed against his. When Zell failed to respond with enthusiasm, Seifer broke away and let Zell settle into the pillow.

"About the other night..." Seifer began. "All that shit I said?"

"You don't need to explain," Zell said and fought back a yawn. "You were pretty drunk."

Seifer sighed in frustration and rolled onto his back.

"You know I was just talking shit, right?"

"No biggie," Zell said. "Where's Rin?"

"Beach."

Zell closed his eyes, his lids too heavy to keep open any longer. He wasn't going to be able to stay awake if he didn't get up and do something, but he couldn't make himself. Seifer's thumb brushed over his temple and along the outer edge of his ear and Zell wished for the energy to reciprocate, but drifted off instead.

When he woke up, it was nearly sundown. His shoes were off and a blanket was tucked tight around his body, and Zell was reminded that Seifer, for all his gruffness, was a kind man when he wanted to be, whether Seifer wanted to believe it or not.

Zell got up slowly, still worn out but less exhausted and headed into the kitchen. Rinoa was at the table, scribbling in a notebook. She looked up when he approached and offered a weak smile.

He sat down and rubbed his eyes, still trying to shake off the dregs of sleep.

"What are you doing?"

"I started a journal," she said. "But, I'm sort of thinking about writing stories, too. Maybe that's stupid, huh?"

"I don't think it's stupid at all," Zell said. "Might help you work through stuff."

"It'll keep my mind off things," she said with a shrug. She put down her pen and closed the notebook. "How bad was it?"

"Well, it wasn't fun," he said. "But, it's over with."

Over the years, Zell attended his share of funerals. More than he wanted to count, and they were never a pleasant experience, even when it was for someone he'd barely known. He and Liz weren't close, but that didn't make her death any less sad.

"I promise I won't do anything like that again," she said. "I'm just going to make my peace with that part of my life and try to move on."

Zell doubted she would be able to move on until she made her peace with Squall. Only a reunion or a mutual agreement to sever the bond would allow them to go on with their lives. It would end whatever suffering they were both going through, but Zell also wanted to protect her from getting hurt any more than she already was.

"Where's Seifer?"

"In the back," she said.

A strange little smile played on her lips and Zell frowned back at her, suspicious.

"What are you guys up to?"

"You should go see for yourself."

Zell grabbed a beer from the fridge and made his way to the back room, wondering what sort of prank they were attempting to pull. He pushed the door open a crack and his jaw dropped at the sight before him.

He stepped inside and looked around, breathless and overwhelmed as he took in the transformed room and realized it was the perfect space for a martial arts studio.

Seifer caught his reflection in the mirror and turned around. He smiled crookedly, and shrugged.

"Surprise," Seifer said. "What do you think?"

"You did all this while I was gone?"

"Yep."

He looked around in awe, left speechless by such a heartfelt and thoughtful act. No one had ever done anything like this for him before. Near tears, he wiped at his eyes, and didn't care if Seifer teased him for it.

"I don't even know what to say right now," Zell said, choked up. "Come here."

Grinning, Seifer strode over to him and Zell threw his arms around Seifer's middle and squeezed. Seifer grunted, but squeezed back. Seifer didn't have to say a word for Zell to know he much he cared. This was better than any declaration or drunken confession Seifer could make.

"This is great," Zell said earnestly. "I don't know how you did this so fast, but thank you."

"Told you I was a closet romantic," Seifer said with a smile and cracked his knuckles. "Wanna fight me?"

Zell beamed. "You're on."

* * *

On Seth's first day back at school, Squall got a call from his teacher about Seth being disruptive in class. The teacher wouldn't share details over the phone, but Seth never caused trouble at school. Maybe, this was his way of acting out.

"What exactly did he do?" Squall asked when he was finally seated in the principal's office.

"The other children tell me he started a fire in a trash can," Mrs. Galloway said. "The school had to be evacuated."

He and Laguna both tried to impress upon Seth the need to keep his magic secret from people who weren't family. Squall didn't want him to feel ashamed of what he was, but he did want Seth to understand, unexplained magic made other people afraid, and it was dangerous to be casual about it in public. Especially now, with Galbadia's initiative to register the magically inclined.

But, Seth couldn't always control it. Sometimes, it happened against his will, and it seemed his power was increasing exponentially. Maybe, it was an accident, rather than an attempt to impress the other kids.

"Did you actually see him do it?" Squall asked.

"No, but several children saw it and they all told the same story," she said.

"What story is that?"

"That he was standing over the trash can when it caught fire," the teacher said, "and the fire came out of his hands."

Squall felt sick. What was he supposed to do?

"Did he say why he did it?" Squall asked.

"No. He blamed another child," Mrs. Galloway said. "I understand Seth's going through a hard time, losing his mother and all, but I'm sure you understand why we can't have things like this happening in a classroom."

"No, of course. I understand," Squall said. "It won't happen again."

"Well, unfortunately, Commander, it's school policy when something of this magnitude happens that the child responsible be expelled," she said. "Seth is usually a delight to teach and he's usually the one we don't have to worry about, so it pains me to have to tell you, he can no longer be a student here."

"He just lost his mother," Squall said. "You can't make an exception?"

"It's a safety issue, and Seth's actions today endangered everyone in the building," she said. "I'm so sorry, but we can't make exceptions."

"I understand," Squall said through gritted teeth. "Thank you for your time."

Seth waited for him on a bench in the main office, his eyes distant, indifferent.

Squall was going to have to figure something out and find a tutor. His only other option for schooling was Garden, and that wasn't really an option. Squall didn't want him there. They would know what he was.

They were halfway home before Squall could bring himself to ask what happened. He was afraid of the answer he might get, but he needed to know.

"I didn't start the fire," Seth said. "Janie did. She had Uncle Irvine's lighter. The one with the cowboy hat on it."

"You didn't use any magic at school?" Squall asked. "You didn't make fire come out of your hands?"

"No," Seth said. "Janie made it up so she wouldn't get in trouble."

"Why would she blame you for it?"

"Because she doesn't like me," Seth said. "She tells the other kids to call me names and they do it."

"What kind of names?"

"Weird. Crazy. Stupid. Sometimes Leonfart."

Squall tried not to laugh at the last one. Many years ago, he'd been subjected to this very same nickname, courtesy of Seifer Almasy. As they'd moved closer to adulthood, Seifer had abandoned it for worse ones.

"Janie's stupid," Seth remarked. "And I don't want to go back to school anyway. We need to go find Rinoa."

"We?" Squall asked.

"We should just get on a train and go look for her."

Seth's interest in Rinoa reached a level of obsession that Squall found disturbing. He talked about her constantly and always to insist they go find her. If Squall changed the subject, Seth became impatient and frustrated, and Squall didn't understand why it was so important to Seth. It wasn't as if he knew her.

"Do you know where she is?"

"In the center."

"Do you mean Centra?"

"Maybe."

"Who told you this?"

"I heard Uncle Zell talking about it," Seth said as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "Can we have hot dogs for dinner? With mac and cheese?"

"Sure," Squall said, pondering this information. "Hey Seth? What else did your Uncle Zell say?"

"I dunno. Something about a boyfriend and an orphan."

A boyfriend and an orphan? What the hell did that mean? And why did every conversation with Seth inevitably lead to more questions?

"What's an orphan, anyway?"

"A kid that doesn't have parents," Squall said as he got out of the car. He opened the back door for Seth, and the boy spilled out, dragging his belongings along with him. "Seth, when did you hear Uncle Zell say this?"

"When you were in the hospital."

Whatever Zell knew could very well lead Squall straight to her, but she was shutting him out. Every time he reached for his phone to talk to Zell, he thought better of it. If she wanted him, she would reach out, she would come to him, not push him away every time he sought to connect.

"Dad, stop asking questions and just go find her," Seth said. "You won't be happy until you do."

Sometimes, Squall wondered if Seth wasn't an old man, trapped inside a child's body.

One thing was for sure: Seth scared the hell out of him.

* * *

Quistis' wedding was in three days, and Zell double checked his bag to make sure he had everything ready to go before settling down for the night. Beside him, Seifer rifled through his own bag in agitation, and refolded shirts and counted pairs of socks with unnecessary urgency.

Zell spent the last week trying to reassure him that it would be fine, that Quistis insisted Seifer would be welcome, and that it would do him some good to get out for a weekend. The closer their departure got, the more nervous Seifer became.

"Did you pack the toothpaste?"

"Yes," Zell said. "And razors. And everything else. Besides, if we forgot something, Balamb does have stores, you know."

Seifer cast him a dark look and poked through his toiletry bag to ensure everything he needed was there.

"You're sure Quistis is okay with this?"

"We've been over this, man," Zell said. "It's fine. Promise."

"Maybe I shouldn't go," Seifer said. He sat on the edge of the bed and scratched his chin. "It's not like she's my friend or anything."

Zell stood in front of him and gripped the back of his neck. He bent down and kissed Seifer lightly on the mouth, then pulled back to look him in the eyes.

"You are going, whether you like it or not, Almasy," Zell said, "I want you there, so fuck everyone else and their opinions, right?"

Seifer leaned back on his elbows and hitched an eyebrow skyward. It was so inviting, Zell pushed him to the mattress and crawled over him to reclaim his mouth.

"Well, if it sucks, there's always free alcohol and hotel sex, " Seifer murmured in Zell's ear.

"I was kind of planning on that anyway," Zell said. "You know, get you real drunk and take advantage."

"Hmm. It's not taking advantage if I want you to."

Zell flashed a wry smile, "Tch, I'll remember that."

"Good," Seifer said, grinning back. "But it'll probably be the opposite and you know it."

"We'll see," Zell said, leaning down to press his lips to Seifer's again. "Stop worrying, Almasy."

"Famous last words, shithead."

Rinoa knocked on the door and Zell hopped off the bed and invited her in. She looked lost.

"S'up?" Zell asked.

She held out her hand wordlessly and Zell reached out to take whatever she offered. He looked at the object in his palm - Squall's Griever ring, the same ring Zell coerced Squall into giving him on Rinoa's behalf so long ago. He stared at it and then her, curious.

"Give it back to him," Rinoa said. "I shouldn't have it anymore."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," she said. "I don't want anything around that will remind me, you know?"

Zell chewed his lip as he looked her over, the weight of the ring in his palm a heavy burden none of them needed to carry.

"You know giving this back to him might upset him even more, right?"

"Tell him you found it or something."

"If that's really what you want."

"It is," she said. "It's for the best."

Zell put the ring in his toiletries case, and hugged her tight. She said goodnight and Zell watched her return to the living room to read before he closed the door. He wasn't sure if he was going to give it to Squall or not. It almost cruel to do that, like a slap in the face, a confirmation that she was alive but wanted nothing to do with him.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Seifer said, "but you're kinda like a _mom_ sometimes."

Zell smacked him upside the head and returned to his bag. He zipped it closed with a bit of annoyance.

"That doesn't seem like a compliment, Almasy."

"You're better at this nurturing shit than I am. You know, you make sure we eat and you sort the laundry before you wash it."

"Sue me for liking food that doesn't come out of a can," Zell said. "Besides, my Ma trained me well. You always sort the laundry, always make sure there's always plenty of food in case of company, and most important, you look out for the people you care about. Doesn't make me like a mom, it just makes me not an asshole."

"I didn't mean it that way and you know it," Seifer said.

"As far as the nurturing part," Zell said, thinking of every caring thing Seifer had ever done for him, "you've got me beat, hands down."

"Only with you," Seifer said softly. "Nobody else."

His tone was strange and Zell turned around to face him. Seifer was genuinely upset, and Zell wasn't sure why. He sat down on the bed and tried to figure him out. Seifer Almasy didn't get emotional, at least, not like this.

"You know, sometimes I wonder, if you hadn't come to visit, where I might have ended up," Seifer said. "Probably would have wound up serving another ten years or worse because I didn't have a reason to care if I got out or not."

"Don't say shit like that."

"It's true," Seifer said. "I've never said this before, but... I think I owe you my life."

The Seifer of the old days would never admit he owed anyone for anything, and this was another thing they never talked about. Not because they avoided the subject, it just never came up and never seemed necessary to discuss.

Maybe it was nervousness, or something deeper than that, but whatever it was, it left some raw emotion Zell couldn't name written all over Seifer's face.

If not for Seifer, Zell's life might be very, very different, too. He might have shut down and hid himself away in favor of something more normal. Maybe he would have married some girl from Ma's church, not because he loved her but because he was supposed to, because it was expected. If not for Seifer, he might have stayed a SeeD and wound up dead on some mission somewhere, maybe by accident or maybe on purpose because the life he wanted was too far out of reach.

"No, you've got it wrong," Zell said. "I think you saved me from destroying mine."

* * *

Rinoa drove them to the train station in the morning and she was quiet and somber as she hugged each of them goodbye. Zell knew she wished she could be there to see at least one of her old friends get married, but knew better than to tag along.

"What are you going to do to stay busy this weekend?" he asked.

"I don't know. I might go for a long drive, or plant a winter vegetable garden or something."

"Do both," Zell said. "You've got three days of not having to listen to Seifer bitch at me. Take advantage."

Seifer smacked the back of Zell's head and scowled at him.

"Says the guy that threw a tantrum because I forgot to wash a fucking dish."

"Dirty dishes attract bugs," Zell said. "I'd rather not have to deal with spiders _and_ cockroaches, thanks."

"God, you're such a housewife."

Zell punched him in the ribs.

"Housewife _that_, ya dick."

Seifer grimaced but shook it off to offer Rinoa one last hug before they boarded the train.

The trip was uneventful and they spent most of it playing cards. Zell did most of the talking, to keep Seifer's nervousness at bay, but the closer they got to Balamb, the more obvious it became Seifer's anxiety ran high. He drummed his fingers against the arm rest and fidgeted in his seat, bounced his knee and crossed and uncrossed his arms repeatedly and toyed with the zipper on jacket. When Zell got fed up, he gave Seifer his hand-held game console to distract him.

Zell understood his nervousness. The last time anyone besides Quistis saw him, he'd been fresh out of Ultimecia's grasp and not himself.

"You worried they're going to freak out about us being together?" Zell asked.

"I don't give a fuck what they think about that. Why, are you?"

"Nah," Zell said. "Selphie's probably the only one who might make a big deal of it, but I can distract her with something shiny and she'll go away."

Seifer smirked at game screen, but flicked his eyes up to Zell's and the smirk faded. He hit a button and leaned back in his seat.

"I don't want to get into it with anyone, that's all."

"Who are you worried about?"

Seifer shrugged.

"Squall?"

"Naw, sounds like he's got bigger things to worry about than me," Seifer said. "It's no one specific. The whole town maybe. What I did, what they remember."

"It's been ten years, man," Zell said. "Believe me, no one's going to recognize you and if they do, they'll be too scared to do anything anyway. No one's going to give you shit, so relax and just try to have fun, okay?"

When the train arrived that evening, they went directly to the hotel to check in, cleaned up and headed to Ma's house for dinner.

"Ma! We're here!" Zell called as he opened the front door.

The scent of Ma's Balamb fish cooking on the stove hit him as soon as he stepped inside and his stomach rumbled. It was her specialty and Zell's favorite dish, though she didn't make it often because it was a complicated a recipe and took a lot longer to prepare than the dish's simplicity suggested. Zell knew this from experience, since she'd taught him how to make it years ago.

"Zell!" she cried. "Come here and let me hug your neck."

Zell accepted her fierce, affectionate hug and he held onto her tight as she patted his back like he was a child. He never thought he'd miss that, but he did.

She let him go and turned to Seifer. She eyed him up and down and sized him up, the same way she used to look at Zell when she believed he was telling a lie. Seifer shifted under her scrutiny until she beamed up at him and nodded her approval.

"Well, aren't you a handsome one? And so tall!" Ma said, grinning from ear to ear. "I see my son has good taste. Just look at those shoulders!"

"Oh, geez," Zell muttered and rubbed his forehead. "Ma, quit it. His ego's big enough already."

Seifer turned on the charm and dazzled her with a warm, boyish smile. When he offered his hand, she swept him up in a motherly hug and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"I hope you boys are hungry," Ma said. "I made Balamb fish, mashed potatoes, green beans and rolls, and for desert there's apple cobbler and ice cream."

"That sounds amazing, Mrs. Dincht," Seifer said. "I haven't had Balamb fish in ten years."

"What?!" she cried. "You're telling me Zell never made it for you? And please, call me Ma."

"No," Seifer said as he turned his eyes on Zell and cocked up an eyebrow. "I wasn't even aware he knew how."

"Where the hell are we going to get Balamb fish in Centra, Seifer?"

"You can substitute Centran redfish in a pinch, you know," Ma said. "It's not quite the same, but..."

Zell rolled his eyes at Seifer's look of expectation.

"Fine. I'll make it when you catch a fish," Zell said, throwing down the challenge.

Seifer occasionally tried his hand at fishing but always wound up getting pissed off when he didn't catch anything. At the rate he was going, it would be the day after never before Zell would have to spend a whole day preparing substitute redfish for dinner.

"I'll catch you a damn fish," Seifer said stubbornly. "You'll see."

"Mmm," Zell said. "If you say so."

Ma chattered on about the latest Balamb gossip as Zell helped her serve the meal. The news wasn't much different since his last visit, but Zell listened without interruption, just happy to hear his Ma talk.

Seifer groaned in delight over the fish and pointedly eyed Zell with every bite as he raved about it to Ma. Ma was pleased by the compliments and served Seifer extra helpings of everything.

Zell had never seen Seifer be quite this winsome with anyone before, it was fascinating and a little hilarious to watch him beguile Ma with genuine good humor and a smile. Seifer wasn't even faking it for Zell's sake - hell, he was even _flirting_ a little. And Ma loved it.

Zell just shook his head and smiled, wholly entertained and pleased that Seifer was making an effort, and even more pleased that his Ma seemed to like him.

"You boys make sure to stop by before you leave town," Ma said as they were leaving. "I'll make some chowder and cornbread and send you home with some of my apple muffins."

"That sounds great," Seifer said. He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. "Dinner was amazing. Thanks so much for having us."

Ma gave Seifer a hearty squeeze and returned his affection.

"I like him," Ma whispered in Zell's ear. "Hang on to that one, Zell. He's special."

Zell couldn't help a sardonic chuckle. "Oh he's special, all right."

As they walked back to the hotel, Seifer threw an arm around Zell's shoulders, his expression contemplative but more relaxed than earlier.

"I'm a little jealous," Seifer said.

"Of what?"

"You. I hope you know how lucky you are. I would have given anything..."

He didn't need to finish the thought for Zell to understand what he was saying.

"Well, you passed the Ma test, so..." Zell said. "You're quite the charmer, by the way."

Seifer's easy laugh warmed Zell's insides.

"We should have her come visit sometime," Seifer said.

"You really liked her, didn't you?"

Seifer only nodded.

"I think she'd like that," Zell said. "And so would I."

* * *

Rinoa browsed the racks of clothing and aisles of random, assorted goods at the small, eclectic consignment shop in Capetown, more for lack of anything better to do than a need for anything in particular. She selected a few books, a handful of sweaters for the coming winter and a pair of jeans that actually fit and was about to pay when she spied the battered upright piano against the back wall.

It was dusty, scratched all to hell, and probably unplayable, but she wandered over and immediately pictured it in the living room of the orphanage. She touched middle C and smiled at the clear, ringing tone, then played a few bars of a song she learned as a girl.

To her surprise, the piano was in tune.

There was no price on it, so she asked the clerk, more out of curiosity than intent to purchase.

"10,000 Gil," he said.

"Why so cheap?"

"Wood's in pretty bad shape and rats got to it," he said, pointing to the gnaw marks along the bottom. "Cost a lot to fix."

"How much if I want it delivered?"

"I don't have a truck right now," he said. "You could probably rent one right up the road."

"I have a truck, I'd just need some help getting it into the house," she said. "Say, an extra 1,000 Gil for your assistance?"

"You've got a deal, young lady," he said. "Pull your truck around back and I'll get my son to help load it up."

As they pulled into the driveway of the orphanage, the man eyed the place with great interest.

"This is the old Kramer place."

"It is," she said. "We're remodeling right now."

"It hasn't looked like this since I was a teenager," he said. "That Knight, whatshisname, Almasy owns the place now, right?"

"That's right," she said as she got out of the truck. "Still some work to be done, but it's coming along."

"You're a little young for him aren't you?" he asked as his son followed her around to the back of the truck. "Guy's gotta be goin' on thirty. You're what, sixteen?"

Rinoa frowned and shook her head. The last thing she wanted people in town thinking was that Seifer was involved with a teenage girl.

"He's my family, not my boyfriend."

"I didn't think that guy had any family to speak of," the man said. "At least, that's what the papers say."

Rinoa didn't like the way this guy was asking questions, like he was looking for some juicy gossip at Seifer's expense. Maybe, this wasn't such a good idea and considered telling the man she changed her mind about the piano.

"Family's not always blood related," she said as she let the tailgate down.

"So you're one of them orphans?"

"In a manner of speaking," she said. "I was friendly with the Kramer's a long time ago."

She watched as they unloaded the piano and she led them into the house. The man was overly curious about the interior and wandered about the living room to take it all in. She wanted to shove him out the door and let them walk back to town.

"Y'all have done some mighty fine work out here," he said in admiration. He glanced at the flooring in the living room. "Cedar, right?"

"Cedar," Rinoa confirmed.

He eyed photos Zell put up near the door and examined the the faces in the pictures with undue interest. Some were recent, but many were a lot older, from the days when the place was a functional orphanage, and even a few of Zell's from their days at Garden and from the war. Rinoa felt like someone was looking through her underwear drawer as the man's eyes skipped from photo to photo.

"Thanks so much for your help," she said as she opened the front door. "Let me drive you back."

They followed but the man continued to gaze around as if memorizing the layout and the scope of the renovations.

"You know, when I heard that Almasy fella wound up with this place, I was mighty worried he'd cause a ruckus," the man said. "But so far, he's kept to himself, him and that other fella."

"He's not as bad as people think," Rinoa said. "A little rough around the edges, but he really just wants to be left in peace."

"Well, so long as he minds his business and don't cause no problems, I don't care one way or 'nother," the man said. He glanced over at Rinoa as she turned onto the main road. "I must say, you look mighty familiar."

Dull alarm surged through her veins but she shrugged it off. No need to freak out. He was just making conversation.

"Mighty darn familiar," he repeated and eyed her with a hard scrutiny that she didn't like.

"I shop at your store all the time," she said. "You've probably seen me around."

"Must be it," he agreed. "I ain't so good with names, but I do remember faces."

They chatted the rest of the way about the shop and how much they both enjoyed giving old things new life. By the time she dropped him off, her uneasiness melted away and she labeled it paranoia and drove herself to the hardware store for sandpaper, sealer, and wood stain.

When she returned to the house, the sun was already setting. She decided it was too late to get started on her project. Instead, she sat down on the worn piano bench and played for a while, nostalgic for those long ago days of piano lessons and of listening to her mother's songs and dreaming of some day being as skilled a musician as Julia was.

She was a little rusty, but with some practice, she might actually be good again and she considered the possibility of teaching piano as a better source of income than hunting monsters. Fighting was lucrative enough, but it brought with it the risk of being spotted and it was dirty, gross, and a lot of work, and she was becoming increasingly adverse to the idea of killing for spare Gil.

She let herself get so wrapped up in playing, her mind opened up a pathway she hadn't intended to open, and she heard Squall's voice, as close as a whisper in his ear.

_...is that you?_

_Where are you?_

_Please don't shut me out._

_I need you._

She slammed the door on the connection and leaned over the piano keys, tears streaming down her face. He wasn't giving up and her resistance was starting to crumble. She desperately wanted to give in, but she'd already done too much to ruin his life already. Even if it wasn't her fault, her very existence was a threat to any peace of mind he might have found.

_I will only hurt you..._she thought. _This is for the best._

* * *

Notes: Wow, more people reading the revisions than I thought! Reviews are always welcome, whether you're new to the story or you read the original. Thanks to those who have taken a minute to leave feedback on the revisions so far!


	13. Chapter 13

Thirteen

* * *

In the hotel room, Zell pulled a charcoal gray vest over his dress shirt just as Seifer emerged from the bathroom. Zell whistled in admiration. Seifer cut a striking figure all dressed up in slacks and a dress shirt, his vest unbuttoned but similar to Zell's. His face was clean-shaven and his hair slicked back.

Seifer tugged at his tie in irritation and cursed under his breath as he unraveled the knot again, unable to get it right.

"Come here," Zell said. "I've had lots of practice."

Zell redid the knot, Seifer's eyes on him as he worked. He tightened it around Seifer's neck and tucked it under his collar, then stepped back to admire his work.

"What the hell have you done to me, Dincht?"

Zell looked up him, not comprehending the storm clouds brewing in Seifer's eyes. Seifer chewed his lip, vulnerability softening his previously stiff posture.

"Don't make me say it, shithead."

Zell wrapped a hand around Seifer's tie and tugged him closer, low-key turned-on by that vulnerability. It wasn't often he showed it, but it was definitely appealing.

Seifer's kiss was deep and passionate and said everything there was to say. Heat rippled through Zell's veins as he kissed Seifer back, and he wondered if they could get away with being late. Weddings never started on time anyway.

If someone suggested to a teenage Zell that Seifer Almasy was his future, he would have laughed his ass off. But, this was his future, and the more he got, the more he wanted. Incredible that it just kept getting _better_.

"How much time do we have?" Seifer murmured.

"Already supposed to be downstairs."

"Shit."

Zell let him go, pulled on his suit jacket and buttoned it. He grabbed a lavender pocket square from the desk, which matched both his tie and Selphie's bridesmaid dress and arranged it carefully in his suit pocket. Though he wasn't a fan of the lavender, he had to admit, he looked pretty sharp.

Seifer stepped up behind him, and leaned down to plant a kiss on Zell's neck.

"Bank it for later, horndog," Zell said and laughed at Seifer's unhappy growl of response.

He readjusted Seifer's tie and buttoned the suit vest over it.

"Suit looks good on you."

"I feel like an idiot."

"Trust me. You do _not_ look like an idiot."

There was a ferocious banging upon the door, and Zell pushed past Seifer to answer it. On the other side was an angry-faced Selphie, clad in a ridiculously frothy lavender bridesmaid's dress that was too dramatic and frilly for Quistis' simple, elegant tastes. Selphie's influence was written all over the ruffles and lace, and Zell was willing to bet, it was a compromise on Quistis' part.

"What's taking you so long?" she demanded.

"We were just about to head down," Zell assured her. "Chill."

Selphie straightened his pocket square, but when she reached for his tie, Zell pushed her hands away.

"Do not," he warned.

"Fine," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Quisty needs you. She's freaking out."

"Okay, okay, we're going," Zell said. To Seifer, "Hand me my wallet, will you?"

When Selphie's gaze landed on Seifer, her eyes went wide. Seifer tossed Zell's wallet across the room as Selphie scanned him from head to toe, as if she expected him to be nude or wearing a cactuar suit or something.

"Wow..." she breathed. "Don't you clean up nice?"

Zell smirked. "Yes, he does."

Seifer smirked back. "Don't get used to it."

Downstairs, Quistis was a mess. She looked gorgeous in a simple white gown with her hair done up in a loose knot, but her cheeks were streaked with mascara and her eyes red and puffy from crying.

"Quistis!" Selphie cried. "Dammit! Now I'm going to have to re-do your make up!"

"I'm sorry," Quistis said. "I don't think I can go through with this."

Selphie rolled her eyes.

"That's what divorce is for," Selphie said. "Weddings are for getting drunk, eating cake and receiving lots and lots of presents. If it doesn't work out, I've got a great lawyer."

"You're supposed to be supportive!" Quistis cried. "That is _not_ supportive."

In all the years he'd known Quistis, Zell had never seen her so emotional. Sympathetic and annoyed with Selphie's attitude, Zell stepped further into the room.

"Okay if Seifer joins us?" he asked.

"Of course," Quistis sniffled. "Come in, talk me off the ledge, since Selphie doesn't seem to be capable of it."

"I'm supportive!" Selphie said. "I just think you're making too big a deal of this."

"Says the woman who chased four tranquilizers with half a bottle of tequila before her first wedding," Zell said. "Nearly vomited on the pastor, if memory serves."

"I was nervous," Selphie said defensively.

Zell plopped into a chair next to Quistis and crossed his arms over the back as Selphie produced her make-up kit. He wasn't sure how to reassure her, but she would be fine if he could get her to calm down. What she needed was a stiff drink and a pep talk.

Seifer dragged a chair next to Zell and sat.

"Do you love this guy?" Seifer asked.

"Yes," Quistis said. "Very much."

"Then what the problem?"

Quistis considered his question as Selphie dabbed her face with cotton balls to wipe away the smears of mascara, and she wasn't being gentle about it.

"I don't know," Quistis finally said. "Maybe that this all happened too fast."

"You've been dating for three years," Zell pointed out. "That's not fast, by any stretch of the imagination."

"What if he changes his mind? What if he doesn't really want to do this?"

"If he hasn't run away by now, he wants to do this," Seifer said. "Trust me."

"You're not thinking of standing him up, are you?" Zell asked.

"No," Quistis said. "...maybe."

"You'd better not!" Selphie cried. "Not after everything I did to put this together!"

"Selphie..." Zell said in irritation. "Not everything is about you."

Zell ignored the murderous glance Selphie sent as she began to reapply Quistis' mascara.

"Maybe?" Seifer asked. "Trepe, do you want to spend the rest of your life with this guy or not?"

"...yes."

"Then quit your worrying and go out there and marry him," Seifer said. "An hour from now, I guarantee you won't even remember why you were so upset."

Maybe nurturing wasn't the right word for it, but that blunt, uncompromising way he had of dealing with things, and of saying the things that needed to be said was something Zell appreciated almost as much as it drove him nuts.

"Have you had a drink yet?" Seifer asked.

"No."

On the table was a bottle of Sylkis Vodka. Seifer got up and poured shots into paper cups.

"Hey, that's mine!" Selphie protested.

Seifer ignored her and handed a cup to Quistis, who looked at him as if she had no idea who he really was.

"Drink it," he ordered as Seifer handed off the remaining shots. "Relax."

Selphie glared at Seifer darkly as she took a cup from him and swallowed it down in one go. Zell wasn't sure what her problem was, or why she was being so cranky. It was true, she got pretty worked up over events, but she wasn't usually so sour about it.

"You look great, by the way," Seifer told Quistis with a small smile. "Then again, you always did."

Quistis actually blushed, but thanked him and cast a look at Zell. She nodded her approval and her understanding. Zell smirked back.

"I'm really glad you two are here," Quistis said.

"Wouldn't have missed it, Quis," Zell promised.

Irvine popped his head in the door and his eyes darted around the room nervously before he took a cautious step inside. He'd cut his hair short, in a style similar to Zell's. After so many years of identifying Irvine by his long auburn locks, to see him without them was _strange_.

"Kinneas," Seifer acknowledged.

"Almasy," Irvine said. "Long time."

"What do you _want_, Irvine?" Selphie snapped.

"It's almost go time," Irvine said. "Everyone about ready?"

"We'll be ready when we're ready," Selphie said. "Don't rush the bride!"

"What is your problem?" Irvine snapped back.

"_You_," she said. "Now get out."

They were fighting again. That explained Selphie's sour mood. If Zell were a betting man, his money would be on divorce within six months. Again.

It started the same way the first time around, with them sniping at each other in front of everyone and it only got worse after that. Eventually, they couldn't even be in the same room without it devolving into a heated disagreement. Irvine slept on Ma's couch for two weeks last time the separated. Zell didn't blame him for leaving, but Irvine loved her and he let himself get sucked back in when Selphie came back all sweet and contrite and full of apologies and excuses for her behavior.

"What did I do this time?"

"You know what you did," Selphie said.

"Probably not the time or place to have this conversation," Zell said as he stood to pour Quistis another drink. "Save it for later."

"I agree," Irvine said. "Got a full house, Quisty. We're ready when you are, darlin'."

Seifer got up and turned to Zell.

"I'm going to go find my seat."

He leaned down and gave Zell a lingering peck on the lips that was definitely a promise of more later. Zell warmed all over and wished _later_ was already here.

As Seifer left, no one spoke. Everyone stared.

"...wow," Irvine breathed and shook his head. "Didn't expect that."

"Problem, Kinneas?"

"No..."

"Good," Zell said. "We'll let you know as soon as we're ready."

Zell poured another drink for himself and Selphie.

"Convinced yet, Quis?" he asked.

"I'm convinced," she said with a soft smile.

"What did you do to him?" Selphie asked with a frown. "He's like, different."

Zell just shrugged. Selphie's question echoed the one Seifer asked earlier. He hadn't done anything, but he didn't know how to explain that. Seifer was the one who changed.

"When you guys get married, can I plan the wedding?"

"No," Zell said, blushing. "Not a chance in hell."

The wedding went off without a hitch. Quistis looked beautiful, and Selphie only punched Zell once for standing in the wrong place. He got weepy as Quistis and Ben said their vows, and his eyes misted over when Quistis' hand shook as Ben placed the ring on her finger.

Seifer sat between Cid and Squall, the absolute last place Zell expected him to be. He was happy to see Seifer included among friends and family. No matter what Seifer said, he was one of them, and he always would be.

They all piled into the limo after the ceremony was over. It was a short drive, but Quistis insisted Seifer join them for the trip to the reception at the hotel. As they piled in, Quistis leaned over and kissed Seifer on the cheek.

"You were right," she said to him. "Thank you."

"Of course I was," he said. "Why would you ever doubt me?"

Ben cracked open a bottle of champagne and passed it around. On top of the drinks earlier, it went straight to Zell's head. In front of the hotel, he stepped out of the limo, tipsy and giddy and a little uncoordinated. When he stumbled on the curb, Seifer laughed at him.

"Tell me again who is taking advantage of who later?"

"Shut it, Almasy," Zell said. "I'll be fine as long as there's no more champagne."

"Still plenty of toasts to make," Seifer said. He smirked and pinched the back of Zell's neck. "Looks like I'll be dragging you off to the room and having my way with you sooner than planned."

"Oh my god..." Selphie murmured behind them, scandalized. "Ew!"

"Oh, get over it Selphie," Zell said. "You'll be dragging Irvine off to some dark corner later, too, so relax."

"I will not! He's a stupid jerk."

"Yeah, maybe so, but you love him, so forgive him, get drunk and do whatever it is you two do behind closed doors," Zell said. "We won't judge."

"I might," Seifer said under his breath.

They sat through toasts and food, music and dancing. Seifer didn't say much, but he relaxed after a few drinks and made easy conversation with Cid, Quistis and even Irvine. Zell declined to dance until Quistis drunkenly dragged him to the floor. Her cheeks were flushed pink and her eyes sparkled, and Zell couldn't remember a time when his friend looked so radiant and happy.

He spun her around the dance floor, a little drunk himself, glad to be here, dancing with his best friend on her wedding day.

"Now that's adorable," Quistis said and pointed across the room at Seifer. "I think Eliza's in love."

Selphie's eldest daughter Eliza stood on Seifer's shoes, looking up at him in a smitten, starry-eyed way as he twirled her across the floor.

"Do you blame her?" Zell asked.

"Not at all," Quistis admitted. "Who knew he'd be good with kids, though?"

"Yeah, that's new to me," Zell said and smirked at the former Knight. "Didn't think he liked kids much."

Zell pulled Quistis closer as the song turned slow and she leaned her head against his with a contented sigh.

"I'm so happy," she slurred. "For both of us."

Zell chuckled at her drunkenness and looked up in time to see a grinning Seifer twirling Eliza around and around. He was used to seeing Seifer's softer side, but there was always a sadness that came with it. It was nice to see to see that soft side come with no burdens for a change.

Two more little girls smashed into Seifer and grabbed hold of his legs. One climbed him like a tree and hung from his back, her arms around his neck and still, he kept dancing. He caught Seifer's eye and grinned and received a laugh and a shrug in return.

"They're like monkeys," Zell said.

"About as well behaved," Quistis agreed. "How's Rinoa?"

"She's okay," Zell said. "Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"She's been pretty down. Blaming herself."

"Do you think it would have been better if she'd stayed?" Quistis asked. "Just got it all out in the open?

"I don't know," Zell said honestly. "On one hand, I think maybe that would be best for both of them if she'd just faced it. On the other, it isn't safe, is it? Garden can't protect her if it gets out."

"I'd try," Quistis promised. "If it got out, I'd do everything in my power, Zell. I would."

"I know," he said. "I know you would, I just don't know if you can."

"I think I understand why she'd want to hide," Quistis said. "I didn't at first, but one of those conspiracy articles crossed my desk last week. I get why she'd be afraid. If it were me, I'd want to hide too. Being feared and hated so much there are still news articles about you ten years later. It must be awful..."

"We're looking out for her, Quis," Zell promised. "We don't let her wallow too much."

"I'd really love to see her," Quistis said wistfully. "Maybe after the honeymoon, I can come down for a weekend?"

"Of course," Zell said. "We'd love to have you guys."

"Mind if I dance with my wife?" Ben cut in.

"Sure," Zell said. He dropped a kiss on Quistis' cheek. "She's all yours."

Zell grabbed a glass of whiskey from the bar and watched Seifer for a minute. Selphie's youngest, Margery, clung Seifer's back and loudly announced that he was her chocobo, while Eliza held his hand and twirled herself around and around. Janie had abandoned the game to dance with Seth, who looked put out and uncomfortable but took his duty very seriously.

"I almost feel sorry for him," Irvine said as he stepped up to the bar.

"Don't. He wouldn't entertain it if he wasn't having fun," Zell assured him.

"Yeah, but now they'll never leave him alone," Irvine said. "Just like their mom."

"What's up with you guys, anyway?"

"Aww, who knows? Selphie gets like that sometimes," Irvine said. "Love her till death do us part and all that, but I've given up trying to figure out why."

"What did you do to earn her wrath?"

"What didn't I do?" Irvine asked. "It's always something. I looked at the waitress too long, left the cap off the toothpaste, let the girls have an extra popsicle, forgot to pick up the dry cleaning, made the coffee wrong. It's endless, man."

Zell chuffed in fake sympathy. It was Selphie. What did he expect?

"But, it's probably because I cut my hair."

Zell wanted to feel sorry for him, but he couldn't. Irvine had known exactly how Selphie was the first time they'd gotten married, and he'd known exactly how she was the second time around. Selphie liked the drama and the newness of things. She liked planning and preparation and excitement and adventure. When things got boring or stayed the same, she got annoyed. She'd always been that way and would always be that way.

"I hope you're not asking for advice, because I have none to give," Zell said. "Kind of new to the relationship thing myself, so I have no idea what to tell you."

"No worries," Irvine said. "We'll work it out. Just another rough patch."

"Why _did_ you cut your hair, anyway?"

"Well, the comb-over looks ridiculous when you've got waist length hair," Irvine said. "It was necessary."

"You're going bald?"

"Quickly," Irvine said. "I blame it on living with four females bent on making my life as miserable as possible."

Out on the dance floor, Margery gave Seifer's hair a hard yank and told him he was a bad chocobo. Zell laughed at Seifer's grimace, but marveled at his patience with the preschooler. Never in a million years would he have imagined Seifer would indulge or tolerate it.

"I should probably go rescue him," Irvine said. "Margie's about to get violent."

* * *

Seth knows who the tall man is without being introduced. They will be very important to each other soon, but for now, they are strangers, and he watches patiently while he dances with Janie's sisters. Buried beneath all the anger and the years of suffering is a man with a kind heart, a man who is not as hard to love as he believes he is.

Seifer can not see his own worth. He can not see his own strength and he doesn't know true strength is deeper than the physical. Some day, he will understand. It might nearly destroy him, but he will understand that not all heroes make the front page of the news, and not all heroes are mentioned in the history books.

Seth sees what Seifer can not see himself, and he sees what he will become. Seth hopes that future is still within their grasp. Every day that goes by that Rinoa is not there to mend his father's wounds is another day lost to the past and it takes them further and further from the life he knows they need.

It is a struggle to keep it all on track when no one listens. He's just a boy, after all, and no one listens to children.

Seth is a boy, but he isn't. Nobody understands and he doesn't know how to make them. He knows more than he can say, too much maybe, but the future he wants is so close, if only he can make himself heard.

Janie chatters at him about her dolls and chocobos and the sparkly pink BB gun her father has bought her as they sway around the dance floor. Sometimes it's hard to believe some day she will either be his downfall or the love of his life, his end or his salvation, even if right now she's nothing more than a pain.

She knows none of this and he can't tell her now. Maybe someday in the future, if there is a future he will tell her everything, but for now, all he can do is dance and wait.

* * *

Zell watched Irvine go and then made his way out to the deck. No one was outside, and the night beyond was quiet. From where he stood, he heard the waves lapping lazily at the shore, and he smelled brine on the breeze.

He sipped his whiskey and wondered what Rinoa was doing all by herself back at the orphanage and if she was lonely, or if she was enjoying the peace and quiet. He hoped she was able to relax and sort some things out while they were away. Even if she only planted her garden and spent the rest of the time writing, it might do her some good. So long as she wasn't wallowing.

"There you are," Seifer said behind him. "What are you doing?"

"Just thinking."

Seifer stepped up beside him and leaned against the rail.

"Having fun?" Zell asked.

"Actually, yeah," Seifer said. "I haven't felt this normal around anyone but you in a long time."

"I hope to Hyne someone got a picture of you dancing with all those little girls," Zell said. "Who knew what a softie you are?"

Seifer smiled at the sea and laughed softly.

"Kids are alright," he said. "More honest than adults. Squall's kid, though. Wow."

"Yeah, he's kind of intense" Zell agreed.

"The kid is fucking creepy."

"Why, what did he say?"

Seth had always been a somber and serious kid and he stared like he could see right into your soul. Zell figured it was just an inherited trait.

"It wasn't so much what he said," Seifer said and sipped his drink. "There's just something about that kid. I can't put my finger on it."

"What happened?"

Seifer chewed his lip and sipped his drink again.

"He said he saw me sometimes in his dreams, and something about heroes," Seifer said. "He looked at me like he knew me. And I can't shake the feeling that I know him, even though I've only seen pictures."

Zell thought about that and rattled the ice in his glass, unsettled.

"Yeah, he's a weird kid," Zell said. "A lot like his dad."

"If it was just a Leonhart kind of weird, it wouldn't have bothered me," Seifer said quietly. "This is gonna sound nuts, but... Never mind. I'm just drunk and making too much of it. He's just a kid."

"Tell me," Zell said. "Even if it is nutty."

Seifer bit his lip and took a swallow of his whiskey. He leaned heavier against the rail and pushed a hand through his hair.

"I don't know what it is," Seifer said. "It's like he's got some kind of power and I can feel it. Kind of like being around Rin. There's something... in me, that knows what she is."

Zell pondered this and wondered if it was a holdover from being Ultimecia's. Rinoa inherited Edea's power, some of which came from Ultimecia, so perhaps what he sensed was a remnant of his former mistress in their displaced friend.

But if that was true, what did that have to do with a five year old boy?

"Maybe I'm just paranoid," Seifer said. "Imagining it."

Zell wasn't so sure that was true, but he kept quiet on the subject. A half-formed idea bounced around his head for half a minute before he dismissed it. It was too weird and crazy to entertain.

"Anyway, creepy Leonhart spawn aside," Seifer said. "I'm glad I came."

"Told you you'd be welcome."

"Yeah, yeah," Seifer said with a smug smile. "So, how drunk are you?"

"Not as drunk as you," Zell said. "You must be wasted to let Selphie's demons crawl all over you like that."

"They weren't that bad," Seifer said. "Until the little one started the hair pulling shit."

"Well, it was damn precious, Almasy."

Seifer smirked as he leaned down to kiss Zell, and he gripped the lapel of Zell's suit jacket to pull him closer.

"I'll come back later?"

Zell grinned stupidly at a bewildered Squall, who stood there like he wasn't sure if he should run away or back away slowly.

"Come on out," Zell said. "S'up?"

"Not important...just wanted...a cigarette," Squall mumbled.

"Didn't know you started again," Zell said with a bit of dismay.

Some time between Time Compression and marrying Liz, Squall picked up the habit. He quit around the time Seth was born, but it looked like stress had gotten to him and he'd gone back to it.

"Only when I drink."

"Welcome to join me," Seifer said, taking a pack out of his suit pocket. "Got a light?"

Zell hated when Seifer smoked, but it wasn't often so he indulged it. Seifer was going to do what Seifer wanted, and there was no arguing with it. Still, Zell sneered and rolled his eyes in disapproval as he stepped away from Seifer and turned for the door.

"I'll let you two have some time to chat," Zell said and lifted an eyebrow at Seifer. He got a nod in response. "I'm sure you two have a lot to catch up on."

Seifer turned his gaze on Squall as he offered his lighter. "We certainly do."

* * *

Seifer lit his cigarette and passed the lighter back to Squall and thought about how good Zell looked in that suit. He didn't pretend to know when or how he'd fallen for Dincht, but his guts were all twisted up like a kid with a crush. It wasn't a bad thing, but Seifer spent most of his life avoiding emotional relationships, and there was a part of him that wanted to fight it.

It was a losing battle. Seifer was in love, and that was the truth. As smitten as a schoolboy and in his drunken state, contemplating ridiculous notions about the future, which may or may not have involved adopting a brood of unruly kids.

Like that was even realistic or appropriate.

For the last few weeks, these stupid thoughts popped up at the weirdest times. Ever since that embarrassing confession, all he could think about was family. Being here to see Quistis get married and playing with the Kinneas girls didn't help matters any. The Seifer of old would never entertain these thoughts, but every time he pictured the future, all he could see was growing old with Dincht, surrounded by kids that called him dad.

It was both fucked up and appealing at the same time.

It scared him. When he initiated this affair, he never expected to be so quickly drawn to the idea of domestication. His fear had less to do with Zell, who would always matter to him for being there when no one else was. It was the idea of settling down, of letting go of the pride that held him paralyzed for so long.

He wanted that life he kept picturing, something that was for keeps, and that scared the piss out of him. It could all go away, at any time, and he feared he wouldn't want to live it did.

"So, is that for real?" Squall asked, interrupting Seifer's thoughts.

"Yeah. It's for real," Seifer said. "Doesn't make any fucking kind of sense, but it's real."

"Never would have guessed."

"Makes two of us," Seifer said. "But, you want what you want. Simple as that."

"Are you happy?" Squall asked quietly.

"Yeah," Seifer said. "He's exactly what I want, and fuck if he isn't exactly what I need."

"And Zell?"

"Well, he hasn't left me yet, so I'm pretty sure he's happy, too," Seifer said. "What about you, Leonhart? Are you happy?"

Squall just shook his head and took a drag on his cigarette.

"Well then, on that note, I have something for you."

Seifer fished Squall's ring out of his coat pocket and held it out in a closed fist. Squall hesitated, staring at him guardedly until Seifer opened his palm to reveal his offering. Carefully, he reached for it and held it up to the light.

"Where did you get this?"

"Where do you think?"

Squall, dumbfounded, just stared at the ring, turning it over and over, inspecting it like a jewelry appraiser, trying to find any flaw or indication it was a fraud.

"Do yourself a favor, Leonhart," Seifer said with a meaningful look. "Get your ass on a train and come see us some time, yeah?"

Squall clenched his fist around the ring and his eyes flared with defiance, a look so reminiscent of their childhood, Seifer briefly missed their brawls.

"Why?" he demanded.

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" Seifer asked. "You're not that dense. Don't pretend you are."

Seifer saw Squall's phone sticking out of the pocket of his jacket and he reached over fished it out. Squall flinched, apparently afraid Seifer was going to attack, but he relaxed when Seifer flipped it open and punched in his number.

"If you decide to come down, give me a little heads up," Seifer said. "You're welcome any time, bring your kid if you want. I suggest sooner rather than later."

"I really wish someone would just tell me what the fuck is going on."

"Not my place to tell," Seifer said. "But if I were you, I'd trust my gut. And the evidence."

Squall stared at the ring and slipped it on his finger. Age and battle had broadened his hands, and it didn't quite fit anymore. He took it off and stuck it in his pocket as his disbelief turned indifferent.

"Thanks," he said. "I'll take it under consideration."

Seifer scoffed and shook his head. Stubborn and hard headed as ever. Leonhart was probably content to just suffer through it rather than go after what he wanted and needed. It made Seifer want to shake some sense into him. Ten years, and he really hadn't changed.

"Suit yourself," Seifer said. "If you'll excuse me, I have a little unfinished business to attend to."

"Business?"

"If you must know the details, there's a short, hot, blonde in need of my attention," Seifer said with a smirk, "and if I don't stop him, he's going to drink all the whiskey in Balamb and get too fucked up to be any fun."

Squall was baffled and a little scandalized at Seifer's tone.

"Relax, Leonhart," Seifer said, patting him on the shoulder. "I know I just fucked up your world, but you don't have to make it so difficult for yourself."

"What are you talking about?"

"Life's a lot easier when you stop thinking about shit and just follow your heart," Seifer said. "Throw the ring in the ocean or get on a fucking train. Don't think about it, just pick one."

* * *

Squall stared at the ring for a long time, trying to make sense of this. He'd bought it when he was fifteen, thinking it was the coolest thing he'd ever seen. It was heavy, solid silver molded into the shape of a lion's head with a tiny ruby gem for an eye. It symbolized bravery, courage and pride. Three things he seemed to lack now.

The ring was now tangible evidence that she existed. The last time he'd seen it, it was on a chain around her neck, and the only way Almasy could have gotten it was if she gave it to him.

What did returning it mean? Was she giving it back because she was through with him? If taken in concert with her refusal to let him in, he was inclined to think so. She only let him in once in the last few weeks, and he got the impression it wasn't intentional. Just the day before, he heard piano music in his head, beautiful and soothing and felt her presence in his mind. Then she shut him out, her whisper insisting it was for the best.

But Seifer implied otherwise, which meant...what?

"You okay, son?" Laguna asked, appearing at Squall's side.

Squall didn't answer, he just held up the ring and gestured at it. Laguna couldn't know it's significance, and an explanation was due, but he couldn't make himself explain.

"That's nice," Laguna said approval. "Where'd you get it?"

"She gave it back."

"Who?"

"Rinoa."

Laguna eyed him curiously, a little confused but not without understanding.

"Squall..." Laguna began, but Squall cut him off.

"I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do," he said.

"What does your heart tell you, son?"

"To get on a train."

"And your head?"

"That all this is insanity, that it can't be real and I should just forget about it and move on."

"Which do you want more?"

"Peace of mind."

Laguna sighed and roughed up Squall's hair, something Squall found simultaneously irritating and comforting.

"My biggest regret in life is letting circumstance sweep me away from the people that mattered most," Laguna said. "Getting caught up in things that, while important, were ultimately what kept me from things that were even more important."

Squall didn't really get where he was going with this and it had a sort of rambling quality to it that Laguna often resorted to when he was nervous.

"What I'm saying is, there's nothing holding you back right now, except yourself," Laguna said. "If you want answers, go get them."

Squall pocketed the ring and felt a sharp pang of gratitude sweep through him. He clasped his father's shoulder and nodded.

"Okay."

Laguna looked surprised at his sudden decision but smiled and roughed up Squall's hair again. Squall scowled and shoved his father lightly.

"Knock it off."

"Atta boy," Laguna said. "Last train to Centra leaves in an hour."

"How do you know that's where I'm going?"

"Seth told me you'd be going to Centra tonight."

"How the hell..."

"I don't know, but are you really that surprised?"

He was, but he wasn't.

"Shit. What am I going to do with Seth while I'm gone?"

"Well, that's a stupid question, son," Laguna said with a wry smile. "You don't seriously think you could go without us, do you?"

"What?"

"Not to interfere," Laguna said. "Just for moral support. In case you need me."

"Dad..."

Squall wanted to express his gratitude, but the words wouldn't come out. He hadn't considered that he might need someone there to pick up the pieces if it all went sideways and he fell apart. Leave it to Laguna to be the one to think of it and want to be there in case.

"I love it when you call me dad," Laguna said wistfully. "So, are we going?"

"Yeah," Squall said, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Need to find Almasy or Dincht first."

"That may be a problem," Laguna said, scratching his head. "I saw Zell drag the tall guy out by his tie a little while ago. I'm guessing they're a little busy right now."

A short laugh escaped Squall. While that relationship baffled him, he couldn't deny what little he'd seen of it looked genuine. If it meant that Zell was finally at a place in his life where he was happy with who he was, Squall couldn't fault him for it. Even if Seifer was not the obvious choice.

"I'll just call and leave a message."

Squall found Seifer had listed his number under "Lap Dog." At least he had a sense of humor about it. He hit send and waited for voice mail to pick up. To his surprise, Seifer answered.

"I'm getting on a train," he said.

"When?"

"Right now."

* * *

Notes: So many reading! I don't know if you're new readers or old ones but thanks! Feedback is always welcome and I do my best to respond to every review personally – I'd love to hear from you, new or returning! To those that did leave a review, thanks again!


	14. Chapter 14

**Fourteeen**

* * *

Rinoa got out of bed around sunrise and shook off a strange dream about Seth riding a lion through the house. She brewed a pot of coffee and made some toast, then dressed for the day in boots and one of Cid's old plaid shirts over a tank top.

The house was too quiet without the boys around, and she missed their banter and their laughter and the constant noise of power tools as they worked. Without them to liven the place, it felt haunted and abandoned.

Outside, the morning was clear but cool, and the grass shimmered with morning dew that made the world appear a mythical place covered in crystalline ice that flared like prisms in the early sunlight. The breeze carried with it the ever present scent of brine, but she detected something colder on the edges and took it as a sign of the coming winter. Clean, fresh, crisp – and so very different from the city where she'd grown up.

She checked the plants she'd put in the earth the day before – an assortment of winter vegetables, herbs, and fancy lettuces the shopkeeper promised would do well in the colder months, even under frost. So far, they looked okay, with no sign of wilting or imminent death. Rinoa wasn't much of a gardener and had zero experience with the hobby, but it would be nice to have fresh produce in the winter, and Zell would appreciate the fresh herbs for his gourmet concoctions.

Maybe, if the garden did well, they could get some chickens, too. That might be fun. Chickens were cute, and fresh eggs were so much more delicious than store bought ones. She imagined omelets and crepes and meringue pies and her mouth watered.

Most mornings, Rinoa took a walk down the beach with her mug of steaming coffee, but today she was compelled to do something different. She armed herself and followed a narrow path around the ridge above the beach, stony cliff one one side, trees on the other. The undergrowth was thick and it tore at her jeans as she pushed her way through dense weeds and vines toward a collection of boulders.

She'd never been too far down this path, and usually turned back when the choking weeds got too difficult to navigate, but today she kept going out of curiosity. She wanted to know where the path led, and what lay beyond the boulders and trees.

The further she trekked, the quieter the world got, until she could only hear her own heartbeat and the soft brush of foliage against her jeans. If she didn't know better, she might convince herself she was the only person left in the world. She almost turned back, but then spied the edge of a crumbling stone wall covered in vine.

Maybe there was something worth investigating after all.

The ruins of what was once a small cottage rose up from the weeds, the roof long gone and the glass windowpanes, too, but as she peered inside, she could distinctly make out a floor plan. Two bedrooms, a kitchen, a bath and a small living area – nothing fancy, but Rinoa would bet, it was once a cozy little home with a lovely view of the sea.

The remains of rotten furniture littered the floor like broken bones, bleached pale from the salty air and smelled of damp, wet decay. On one wall, a faded, thin curtain still hung over a pane-less window and shifted like a specter on the breeze.

Rinoa stepped over the threshold, curious about how long this little cottage sat unoccupied and forgotten, and she sifted through piles of things on the floor with the toe of her boot. She couldn't identify much of the debris, but in the bedroom, upon a dusty termite-eaten dresser, she found a small lacquer jewelry box containing a strand of real pearls, a gold pendant of Hyne's Cross and a pretty emerald and diamond ring.

She pocketed the jewelery, feeling like a thief, but she reasoned these things belonged to people who left them behind and wouldn't miss them. Likely, their owner was long dead anyway.

Further down the path, Rinoa found another cottage – this one completely covered in ivy and hidden from sight by trees and brambles, but it was intact, if not livable. The windows were dirty and some panes were cracked, but the roof looked solid. The door, though weathered, still hung straight on rusted hinges and opened easily enough with a little effort.

The walls inside were covered in water-stained, striped paper and dusty sepia-colored cloths covered the larger pieces of furniture. She uncovered a couch at least four decades old, if she were to judge by the style and faded, moth-eaten fabric. On the far wall was a once-beautiful china cabinet full of fancy dishes with fine gold filigree scrolling along the edges. In the drawer, a set of simple but heavy silverware gone black with a heavy patina of oxidization.

In the bedroom, under a drop-cloth, the bed was still neatly made and decorated with fading lace pillows with delicate embroidery. The faded, stained curtains turned to dust when she touched them, and the fine Trabian rug beneath her feet crunched with every step.

It was the roll-top writing desk beside the window that caught Rinoa's attention. It was dusty and covered in the carcases of long dead beetles and flies, but as she brushed away a layer of filth, she found the wood was a beautiful mahogany and unmarred by time or the elements. She lifted the roll-top and inspected the little drawers for office supplies and found the were still full of rusty paper clips, brass thumbtacks and even a handful of stamps that gave her an approximate date of about fifty to sixty years ago.

An ancient typewriter sat in the middle of the desk, reams of yellowing paper next to it. In the typewriter was a sheet of paper with a single sentence typed out, the once black ink faded to a blurred gray.

_Come back to me._

Rinoa gasped softly and stepped away from the desk as an avalanche of feeling swept over her. She sat on the edge of the bed and pressed a hand over her mouth and took slow, calming breaths.

This was not a sign. It could not be a sign. A fifty year old plea for the return of a lover or family member, for someone long gone – that had nothing to do with her.

She closed her eyes and pictured this little house all cleaned up and made livable again. She saw herself at that desk, the wood refurbished and gleaming in a stream of morning light, pecking away at the typewriter to tell the story of a girl who got so lost, she missed everything.

She pictured a piano in the living room and a teenage boy, playing a melody of his own creation as that same sunlight revealed hints of fire in his chestnut hair, his blue eyes framed by dark lashes and flashing pale ice.

She saw her hands slide over a man's strong, muscular back, her fingers tracing the outlines of a tattoo in the shape of a lion's head; her lips pressed into the hollow between his shoulder blades.

_If you come here, I'll be waiting..._

Rinoa jumped up from the bed, startled by how close he sounded. It didn't feel like a memory, and his voice was lower, stronger, too sure to be that uncertain boy who promised things he was too young to understand.

_Remember that, Rin? You're late, but I know you're here._

Rinoa caught a glimpse of herself in the dusty mirror above the dresser and wiped away the dust to take a closer look at what she was sure must be her imagination. She suppressed a shriek as she spied faint, feathery lines of blue-gray and white curling around her right eye and down her cheek to cup her jaw. Tawny-gold eyes flecked with blue peering back at her were not her own. A hand touched the face in the reflection, claw-like and covered in burn scars.

She couldn't tear her eyes away from her future self, for she was sure that's what this was, but a movement behind her shifted her gaze away to the boy she knew only from photos and a brief, chance meeting. Older, taller and more beautiful, with the first signs of adulthood evident in his build, Seth stared back at her mournfully and swept long bangs from his eyes.

Rinoa turned to face him, but he was not behind her. When she looked back at the mirror, Seth was there. He smiled as dusky, spotted wings, like those of some bird of prey, exploded from his back and stretched toward the ceiling.

"We're the same, you and me," he said. "Do you remember?"

"I don't understand. Remember what?"

"I know you, and you know me and we are the same."

She glanced over her shoulder again, but there was nothing behind her but the dusty furniture. Whether vision or hallucination, this was only happening in the mirror. Seth watched her in the mirror, calm blue eyes unblinking as Rinoa struggled to understand what she was seeing.

_I'm waiting, Rinoa...stop hiding yourself. Please. Let me in._

So close. So very close, and getting closer by the second. The weight of it pressed down on her, like the boiling sky in Time Compression. Squall urged her to let him in, and he clawed his way through her resistance, as desperate as he was determined, and Rinoa thought maybe she was going mad.

"I showed you a future, Rinoa. One of many. I can show you others, if you like."

The Sorceress in the mirror faded like smoke in the wind, and she saw herself shackled, her wrists encased in thick metal bracelets. Beside her Squall slumped against the wall, also bound, and blood trailed down his arms and dripped from his elbows and fingertips. Unconscious, close to death, there was nothing Rinoa could do to save him-

_-his arms wrapped tight around her body, his mouth against her own, hot and demanding and Rinoa surrendered to him, eager, wet, mindless as their bodies came together and it felt like being burned alive -_

_A dark-haired little girl with ice blue eyes and an ornery smile laughed gaily as she ran toward Rinoa with skinny arms outstretched. Her patent leather shoes were scuffed and the knees of her tights sagged and grass stained, and she smelled of wet earth and sunshine and Rinoa's heart filled with unexpected joy as her daughter came into her waiting arms. _

_-on a battlefield, littered with bodies, an older Quistis bleeding from the head but still fighting. Impossible magic sweeping across the ground in waves as Rinoa cast spell after spell after spell, her Knight empty eyed and lifeless at her feet. Squall a hospital bed, staring blankly at a clock on the wall, his once powerful, beautiful body thin and wasted, herself stepping into the Sorceress Memorial as Squall begged her to stay, her own reflection in the mirror now, her dark hair streaked through with gray and her face burned and scarred and her dark eyes mottled with shades of gold and blue and full of madness - _

"There are many paths, Rinoa," Seth said. "The choices you make now are important."

"What choices?" she wondered.

"All futures and time lines exist in Time Compression," he said. "I've seen many of the roads we could walk and where they lead. There's no changing this past or the things that brought you here, but the future can still be shaped one decision at a time."

"I don't understand," she said. "Do you know what I'm supposed to do, then? You know what will happen?"

"Some," he said. "I can't make choices for you, only you can do that." He paused to stretch his wings and blinked at her with an innocence that belied his words. "The path you're on now is a dark one. Remember, Rinoa, I'm just a little boy in this time and I have no agency of my own. Your choices will affect me, for better or worse. Our lives and fates are inexorably linked because we are the same. Do you understand?

"No," Rinoa said. "I don't. What choices do I have to make?"

Her heart raced as the boy in the mirror moved closer, almost as tall as she was and very much like Squall must have been at that age. Her own face morphed back into that of the tattooed Sorceress, her gnarled hands tangled in her dirty, disheveled hair.

"You can choose to answer my father's call," Seth said. "Or you can run from it. You can accept what you are or deny it. Face the world or hide from it. You can accept love or close your heart. Choose peace or war, you can be selfish or make a sacrifice for love... you must choose."

"What if I don't?" she wondered. "What if don't want to?"

"Not making a decision is the same as making one," Seth said. "And it rarely goes in your favor."

Rinoa pinched her arm, but the vision didn't dissipate, nor did she find herself safe in her bed, pondering this strange dream.

"How are you here?" she asked. "How are you doing this?"

"I told you. We're the same," he said. "And you're avoiding the questions you should be asking."

"What questions?"

"The ones that matter."

Seth flickered and then vanished from the mirror as the lines in Rinoa's face faded. The young woman looking back at her now was the same girl she saw in the mirror every morning.

Shaken, Rinoa fled the house and stumbled outside into the bright morning sun and fell to her knees on the dirt path and looked at her palms. They were just her hands, not claws, not banded in burn tissue, her nails trimmed short and neat.

"I just want peace," she said. "Is that too much to ask?"

The only answer she got was the soft breeze rustling the trees around her and the flash of sunlight on the crests of the waves below.

"I never asked for this," she said. "I don't want it."

She stood and moved to the edge of the cliff and looked down at the rocks below. She contemplated the only way she knew how to rid herself of her power.

What would it feel like to fall?

A few seconds of freedom, flying, then darkness. A quick end, a better end than what might await her. Newspapers published think-pieces on her fate and her whereabouts while her father hunted for her in the gifts and burdens of women, either in search of power or closure.

There was no quick death for her. There wasn't anyone to receive her power, not for miles and miles. She might lay there for days, ruined and suffering on he rocks before someone found her and gave her mercy. Her life could not and would not end until someone took her power from her.

Cruel. Unfair. Not even an act of self sacrifice to save everyone from a future of pain could end it.

And though she was caught in limbo, lost between the past and the present, Rinoa wanted to live. Desperately, she wanted to live, even if she sometimes wondered if there was anything left to live for. She was a living phantom, a mirage of someone who could never be again. There was no going back, no Rinoa anymore, and that wasn't going to change.

It would never be right with Squall, no matter what she convinced herself on the fringes of sleep, when she imagined him there, holding her. Her absence hurt him, her foolish choices robbed his son of a mother. He would be better off if she released him from the bond, once and for all. That was the sacrifice she could make for love. It would bring them both peace, wouldn't it?

"Would that help you, Squall? If I let you go?" she whispered. "Is that what you need?"

_I need you. Please don't run away this time..._

"I'll release you if I can," she promised. "I don't know how to do that, but I'll try. I don't want to hurt you anymore."

_All I want is you..._

* * *

When the train arrived in Capetown, Squall, Laguna, Seth and Angelo Two spilled out onto the platform with their luggage in hand. Squall was travel weary, and the morning sunlight blinded him, but his pulse kicked up a notch as he breathed in the fresh air.

Sensations that weren't his own blazed through him from time to time, and he heard her – her thoughts and words and feelings and he thought he might be sick from the intensity of it. Only desperate hope kept him from sinking down to the platform in a heap of nervousness.

He jumped when Laguna grasped his arm. His father's dark frown said he looked as unglued as he felt.

"I'm okay," Squall promised. "Just...I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" Laguna asked. "You're wound tighter than a clock with six hands."

Squall just blinked at him and accepted his son's small hand as it slipped into his.

"He's okay, grandpa," Seth said. "He's just hearing her say stuff right now."

How Seth knew, Squall didn't want to think about.

This was the closest he'd gotten to getting inside her head since the memorial. The gates weren't wide open, but he still felt it. She alternately pulled him in and pushed him away, unaware that they were connected. He couldn't make sense of some of the images, but that was less important than the relief of knowing she existed.

"Why don't I take Seth to breakfast, and you go rent a car," Laguna suggested, eying Squall's jerky, uneven movements. "Or, maybe I should rent the car. They might think you're drunk."

"You're probably right," Squall said. "You hungry, kiddo?"

"I ate two dough-nuts on the train already," Seth said. "I'm full."

Squall dragged their luggage, plus Seifer's gunblade case, over to the nearest bench and sat. Seth tucked himself under Squall's arm as Laguna headed off to the vehicle rental office. \

"You can't be my Knight, dad," Seth said.

To this point, Squall hadn't considered the possibility that Seth would need a Knight. In the back of his mind, he assumed he would be his son's protector regardless.

"Why not?"

"Can you protect us both?"

"I can try," he said. "I'd never let anyone hurt you, buddy. Why, did you have someone else in mind?"

Seth shrugged and looked around the platform.

"If not me, then who?" Squall wondered. "Your grandpa?"

Seth didn't answer. Instead, he leaned his head against Squall's shoulder and yawned.

"I dreamed you were a lion, dad," he said.

"I always wanted to be a lion," Squall said with a smile. "When I was your age, I pretended I was. Growled instead of talked."

Seth smiled and a low rumbling noise came from deep inside the boy's chest.

"Yep," Squall agreed. "Pretty much like that."

"I think I'd like to be a bird," Seth said and scratched Angelo's head. "Or a wolf."

"You could be a wolf with wings," Squall said.

Squall roughed up the boy's already sleep mussed hair and shifted him closer.

"Don't let her go, dad," Seth said. "No matter what she says, you can't let her go, okay? Everything will turn out bad if she goes away."

Startled, Squall looked at the boy's sleepy face and smoothed back his hair from his forehead.

"Where would she go?"

"I mean the other stuff," he said. "You have to be her Knight. If you're not, nothing will be okay anymore."

"I don't understand."

"I don't know the words," Seth said. "I'm only five, you know."

The way he said it brought a smile to Squall's face. Seth _was_ only five – something Squall often forgot because Seth didn't act like or talk like a child.

"You mean you don't know how to explain it?"

"Yep," Seth said. He rubbed small fists against sleepy eyes. "I don't know all the words yet and I don't know how to make the pictures in my head sound right."

It was such a strange sentence, but Squall understood what he meant. His whole life, words were a struggle.

"That's okay," Squall promised. "I'm a grown up and I know a lot more words than you do and it still pretty hard."

"We all need each other," Seth said. "You and me and grandpa and Rinoa and Eva and uncle Zell and uncle Seifer. We're supposed to be a family."

"Eva?" Squall asked. "Who's Eva?"

"My sister," Seth said sleepily.

"You don't have a sister, kiddo."

"I'm gonna be a great big brother," Seth vowed. "I won't be mean or anything. Not like Janie is to her sisters. I'll be nice and protect her and teach her stuff."

Squall almost dismissed this as fantasy, but an image flickered to life inside his head, of a beautiful little girl with big blue eyes and inky dark hair and a mischievous smile. Then she was gone. Against his side, Seth burrowed deeper into the crook of his arm and yawned.

"I saw her in my dream," Seth said. "She might not be real, though. Sometimes she's not."

The accuracy of Seth's dreams and prophecies was yet to be proven, though signs indicated some things might come to pass. Squall desperately wanted to understand his son's mind and to know all the things the boy knew and _couldn't_ know and didn't know how to say.

So far, Squall learned it was better to let say what he needed to say and let that suffice. Seth became frustrated when pushed, no doubt the product of a five-year-old burdened with ideas and knowledge he didn't have to vocabulary to articulate. The haphazard and wildly obtuse way Seth provided information was evidence enough that it was less ominous than it seemed.

"I just want everybody to be happy," Seth said. "If we're a family, we'll be happy."

"I love you, kiddo," Squall said as he kissed the top of Seth's head. "And you'll always have me, okay?"

"I love you too, dad," Seth said. "I'm sorry I weird."

"You're not weird," Squall promised.

"Everybody's weird. You said so."

Squall sighed at the sound of his own words turned against him. This was an argument he couldn't win.

"If you are weird, it's okay to be that way," Squall said. "You're the best, kiddo."

Seth's hand came up to clasp the hem of Squall's sleeve and he worried the fabric between his fingers. Squall breathed him in, picking up on a combination of Seth's favorite banana scented shampoo and that faintly ashy but sweet little boy smell that Squall never had a name for.

"Do I scare you?" Seth asked.

"The things you say scare me, sometimes," Squall said carefully. "But I wouldn't trade you for the world, kid. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and don't ever think otherwise."

"I don't mean to say scary things," Seth said. "They're not supposed to be scary. They're supposed to help you."

Squall pulled the Seth into his lap and wrapped his arms around him. Seth's head settled into Squall's shoulder and he yawned again.

"I know, buddy," Squall said. "I know you're trying to help. And you are helping, even though your dad has hard head and doesn't always listen."

"I know I don't always make sense," Seth said.

"Neither do I," Squall said. "But don't be afraid to tell me things. Even if it's hard to put into words, or they're scary, I want you to try, okay? And I'll try to be a better listener."

"Okay," Seth said. "I'll try to learn more words."

Laguna returned with car keys and dangled them in front of Squall's face. He shook them and grinned as Squall reached out and snatched them away. He stood and slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder, kissed Seth's cheek and lifted Seifer's gunblade case by the handle.

Squall didn't know why he kept it. It seemed a shame to turn it over to Garden's weapons department, and it troubled him to think it might wind up somewhere down in MD or sold off to a collector or maybe even melted down. Unbeknownst to Cid or anyone else, Squall took it home and kept it, never imagining he would have a reason or opportunity to give it back.

"We'll go grab some breakfast and then check in at the Hotel," Laguna said and slapped Squall on the arm. "You go get your answers."

Squall loaded his belongings into the car and started the engine. That pull from not so far away came again, as he pulled out onto the street. He needed no map to find his way. It was as if some force guided him, and he followed it without question.

The shops and businesses gave way to houses, and then the houses gave way to trees, and soon he found himself driving through a plain of low, rolling hills. The road turned to gravel, and then to dirt and the closer he came, the louder he could hear her. She was somewhere above the ocean, with a view of the beach and the slate-blue water and weathered lighthouse.

It wasn't long before the dirt road curved toward the coast and the house he hadn't seen in years came into view. It looked the same as it had in his childhood memory, but in better repair. Those memories of waiting endlessly on the steps for Ellone to come back surfaced and he sighed in sadness as it reminded him of how little he got to see her.

He pulled up the drive and parked beside a battered pick-up truck and let the engine idle.

_You're late, but I'm here..._

He shut off the engine and got out, and he wandered toward the front of the house. Impressed by the work Seifer and Zell put into renovations, Squall turned in a slow circle to take in the resurrected columns and the rose bushes and the fresh paint. So much love and care had gone into the place, a lot of time invested in recreating it's former grand and imposing beauty.

Nostalgic, he moved past gate and toward the spot where he once made a promise to Rinoa. He half expected to find her there among the pillars, waiting for him lie she was supposed to ten long years ago, but she wasn't.

She was somewhere nearby. Somewhere close. All he had to do was look.

He turned away from the courtyard and walked up the stone pathway to the door and knocked. He didn't know what he was supposed to say if she answered. He hadn't thought that far ahead, fearful if he planned his words, this would all be a cruel joke.

When no one answered, he knocked again and listened for movement on the other side. All he heard was the distant crash of waves against the rocks below. He knocked one more time, then walked around to the back, hoping to find her there, but Squall was alone.

He walked down to the beach and up to the lighthouse, which was padlocked shut, and turned to survey the landscape. Rinoa was nowhere to be found.

"Where are you?" he said aloud. "Are you hiding?"

His phone rang, the ID showing _Lap Dog_ and he answered.

"You make it to the house yet?"

"She's not here."

"Try the beach."

"I'm standing on the beach. She isn't here."

"Is there a truck out front?"

"Yeah."

"Hang around for a bit," Seifer suggested. "Back door should be unlocked. Help yourself to the beer in the fridge. There's also scotch and vodka in the pantry if that's your poison."

"She _is_ here, isn't she?" Squall asked. "This isn't all some elaborate way to fuck with me, is it?"

"What do you think, Leonhart?"

"I don't know what to think. Maybe this whole thing is all in my head."

"Believe me, it isn't," Seifer assured him. "Have a drink, relax, and wait. We'll be back this afternoon."

Just as Seifer said, the back door was unlocked. He opened it and stepped inside to the kitchen and took a look around. It wasn't much different in layout than he remembered, but the flooring, lighting, and all the appliances had been updated.

He took Seifer's suggestion to grab a beer as an invitation to take a look around. He wandered the house and took it all in, from the remodeled and updated bathrooms to the living room with it's plush, new couches and huge TV and the piano against the wall by the window.

There were photos everywhere in frames of all sizes. They ranged from childhood to present day. The most recent ones were of Seifer and Zell, but Rinoa was in a few of them.

Hyne, she still looked seventeen.

Squall's stomach knotted up as he thought of her here, of the months he'd suffered through bouts of what he believed madness. Why did they get to spend those months with her, laughing, drinking, taking pictures, while Squall suffered? Breakdown after breakdown – and Zell knew how on the edge Squall was, and no one ever said a word.

It was all wrong. All of it. And it wasn't fair.

He bit back anger as he wandered further into the house and found what looked like a gym or martial arts studio where they used to sleep as kids. There were three guest bedrooms and what could only be Rinoa's room. He caught a whiff of her perfume as he stepped past the threshold. It was the same now as it was then – soft and sweet, with a hint of lavender – a scent he caught now and then on the edges of dreams and lucidity. He wanted to lay down on the bed and breathe it in, immerse himself in the scent of her, but he didn't venture past the door.

Back in the kitchen, Squall wondered if he should just get the hell out of here and leave her alone as she asked. There was a reason she wanted him to stay away, and it didn't seem she missed him so much.

Maybe, this was the only answer he needed.

He turned for the back door and spied a notebook on the table, the pages filled with her girlish script.

Torn between not wanting to pry and a need for information, he flipped through the pages and caught snippets of her words.

_Some days, I feel like a trespasser in my own life... _

_Neither look like the boys I remember and it's hard to reconcile that in my mind... _

_And Seifer. He might as well be someone else... _

_But me...I'm just lost. I stayed exactly the same. Still seventeen, still just a kid. A kid that doesn't exist anymore... _

_I spend my days trying not to think about how afraid and lonely I am, trying not to grieve for that part of my life that I didn't get to live..._

There was more, so much more but he couldn't make himself read it. He stepped away from the table, feeling like he'd just intruded on something very personal and private. As much as he wanted to know, he shouldn't be reading these words without her permission. He would rather be told, or have her open her mind to him than read it on a page uninvited. Whatever her reasons, he had no business and no right to look.

But her words did quiet his anger, and he found himself unable to hold onto it. She was lost, just as he was, and she'd had no choice in the matter. Still seventeen. He had no idea how that was possible, but he'd seen her with his own eyes.

A sound on the back porch alerted him to the fact that he was no longer alone. Through the window he saw her angry face as she hurled something across the deck in a rage. He moved closer to the window, peering out at the girl he hadn't seen but for the briefest of moments ten years.

She really hadn't aged a day, her face still that of the girl he remembered, though she was more tanned, and her dark hair had streaks of dark blonde rather than reddish gold. His heart thundered in his chest as her eyes flicked toward the window, hesitated and then slid away toward the other side of the deck. She stalked across it and retrieved something familiar and sat down to put her face in her hands.

He was torn between going to her and turning away and never looking back. Her words in that notebook spoke of a desire to move on, to get over the past, yet Squall couldn't just walk away. Not now, not when she was so close he could almost touch her. He still didn't know what he would say, or what he would do, but he couldn't leave.

"Do you need me?" he asked softly. "Say the word, Rinoa. I'm right here."

She looked toward the window, alarmed and she got slowly to her feet as she sensed him there. She reached for her weapon, armed it and aimed it toward the door.

"Someone there?" she called out. "I'm armed."

She continued to stand there, wary and watching for signs of intrusion and Squall backed away from the window. He fished the Griever ring from his pocket and placed it beside the notebook, then headed for the front door. He didn't want to surprise her in her kitchen.

"Meet me out front, Rin," he said aloud, sure she could hear him. "I'll be waiting."


	15. Chapter 15

Fifteen

* * *

Alternating waves of hope and terror chased Rinoa all the way back to the house as if the horrors she witnessed in the mirror were hot on her heels. Some outside influence infiltrated her mind, _Squall,_ she realized, as the house came into view, and she had the strangest feeling he was there, waiting for her.

As she reached the back deck and climbed the stairs, the toe of her boot caught a step and she went sprawling. Her chin smacked against the top step hard enough to make it bleed and she yelped in pain as her teeth nipped the end of her tongue. She stood cautiously and spat out the taste of blood as she ascended the rest of the steps with more caution.

Her thoughts spun and her heart pounded and she thought of that gnarled horror in the mirror. That was just imagination, not real, not something she could become, right? She wouldn't let herself become that _thing_.

When she reached the top step, something in her snapped, like a rubber band stretched to its limit. Inexplicable anger swelled through her and she hurled her Shooting Star across the deck like child caught in the throes of a tantrum. Out of control, she was desperate to run or fight or cry, full of wild hope and crushing fear and her heart beat out a ferocious rhythm in her chest. There was no _reason_ for it, and the barrage of conflicting emotions tossed her about like a ship on rough seas.

She retrieved her weapon and inspected it for damage, saw none and sat down on the stone wall with her face in her hands. Crying seemed the most reasonable option here, but as tears welled up in her eyes, she heard Squall's voice. Loud and clear, like he was right there with her, right next to her, so close she could almost feel the heat radiating off his body.

"_Do you need me? Say the word, Rinoa. I'm right here."_

There was movement behind the darkened window of the kitchen, but she couldn't make out who it was. Someone was in the house, and she could sense eyes on her, watching from behind the curtain. She grabbed her weapon and armed it, ready to fight if needed.

"Someone there?" she called. "I'm armed."

Rinoa held her breath and struggled with the impression that Squall was in there, watching her every move and waiting to be recognized. She didn't dare open her mind to him, afraid he would answer. A lump formed in her throat as she took a careful step toward the door.

"_Meet me out front, Rin. I'll be waiting."_

No. It _couldn't_ be. He couldn't be here. Could he?

"Squall?" she called softly.

Beyond the darkened window, nothing moved. The sense of being watched faded and Rinoa took another cautious step toward the door and reached for the knob. Her hand hovered over it, and she hesitated – what if this was all just another vision, just her wild imagination, and Squall was still in Balamb and unaware she still existed?

She flung th door open and stepped inside. The kitchen was deserted, as she expected it to be, but she gazed around the room in search of evidence to support the nagging certainty in her gut. She moved toward the table and something flashed bright red on the periphery of her vision.

There, on her open notebook, lay Squall's ring – the very same ring she gave Zell before they left.

Rinoa blinked at it, a palm pressed to her mouth to hold back a shriek, and she slipped into a crouch beside the table as her legs gave way beneath her.

He was here. Waiting.

_If you come, you'll find me._

Did she dare go? Could Squall really be there?

When her fear of falling passed and her knees stopped trembling, she stood and paced the kitchen. She set her weapon on the counter and dragged her hands through her hair.

They honored her request to return the ring, but instead of setting Squall free, it drew him here in search of answers. It never occurred to her that he would see it as proof of life rather than a goodbye.

What to do? She could stay inside until he left, but it wasn't fair to leaving him standing outside, waiting for the answers he deserved. She couldn't keep hiding.

"_I've waited ten years..."_

Slowly, she crossed the kitchen and into the hall and peered out the window. Outside, Squall leaned against a pillar on the far side of the courtyard, his back to the house, his arms crossed and his head bowed in contemplation. His hair blazed with coppery fire in the sunlight and shifted on the breeze ahead of the storm brewing on the horizon.

"Okay," she breathed and opened the door. "You can do this, Heartilly."

No matter the outcome, this was something they both needed to face and deal with so they could both move on. No more hiding, no more avoiding.

She stepped outside, moving from pillar to pillar as she approached. Her heart was in her throat as Squall looked up and met her gaze. His face collapsed as he took her in, and Rinoa's tears spilled over. He composed himself, but his chin trembled and betrayed him.

They stood there staring at one another, unable to say a word.

Rinoa took note of his weariness as they sized each other up, and the brokenness in his eyes, and all the ways her absence and her presence wounded him - the hurt in him was palpable.

He wore a plain, black v-neck t-shirt and black cargo pants, a single black studded belt around his waist. Around one wrist was a thick leather cuff and a heavy silver chain bracelet. Multiple scars ran up his forearm and disappeared under the sleeve of his shirt. The scar on his forehead was faded but still prominent, just like Seifer's.

She knew she looked a mess. Tangled strands of hair fell from her ponytail, and it was probably full of debris and dust from exploration. Her jeans were dirty and stained at the knees. She was betting she probably had dirt or dust smeared across her face, too, and her hands definitely could use a good scrub. She felt like a little kid standing there, filthy and disheveled and in need of a bath.

"Hi," he finally said.

Rinoa struggled to find something to say in return. When she said nothing, he turned his gaze to the field again, his lip shaking and his hand balled into a fist at his side.

What could they say to one another now? There were ten long years of life and experiences in him that she wasn't a part of. They had little in common, except a mutual attraction and what seemed an unbreakable bond, regardless of distance or time. Though his maturity didn't lessen the attraction, it was doubtful the lost time brought their interests into similar territory.

"I used to come here pretty often," he said, looking out at the field. "The first few years... I'd wait right here on the off chance you'd be here... Everyone but Zell thought I was crazy for waiting..."

"I'm sorry I'm late," she said. "I didn't plan it that way."

"What happened?"

"I don't know," she said. "I thought I was lost for a couple days at the most."

"Days? It's been ten years, Rin."

"I know," she said. "But for me, everything only happened a couple months ago. Imagine my surprise when I came back..."

"How long have you been here?"

"Almost three months," she admitted.

Squall pushed away from the pillar and shoved a hand through his hair. He turned his back to her and stared out at the field.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I know it's been hard for you, and it's my fault and you can be angry if you want. I just thought it was better if I stayed away and let you live your life."

"Better?" he asked quietly. "I've spent the last three months thinking that I'd lost my damn mind. I could feel you and hear you and every time I tried to sleep, I dreamed about you. You were everywhere... and I would have given anything..."

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I'm so sorry Squall. I was only trying to protect you."

"I didn't need your _protection_."

Rinoa burst into tears and leaned against a pillar for support, crying quietly into her hands. She'd caused him so much pain, so much suffering and there was no way to make it right except to let him go.

"Why?" he asked. "Why now?"

"It's not like I had a choice," she said. "I didn't arbitrarily decide I'd wait ten years, you know."

"Why didn't you come to me?"

His voice was soft and plaintive, but he wouldn't turn around and look at her.

"Ten years," she said. "That's why. You all thought I was dead. What was I supposed to do? Show up at the front gate like it was no big deal?"

"You should have come to me anyway."

"You all have different lives now, Squall. You have a son. It didn't make sense to upset everyone after so long," she said. "I just thought everyone would be better off if I stayed away."

"Who would be better off?"

"Everyone."

"Yet here you are, playing house with Almasy and Dincht?"

"This is where I showed up," she said angrily. "I didn't plan on coming back too late and I didn't plan on living here, but that's how things worked out. I didn't ask for this, and now I have no choice but to hide. And don't be pissed at Seifer and Zell. It's not their fault either."

He turned around and looked at her. His expression wasn't one of anger but of deep sorrow.

"This was the only choice that made sense at the time," she said. "I know you don't understand it, and I know what it cost you and I'm sorry for that. You have a life without me now and I didn't want to make it worse."

He swallowed hard and swept a hand across his eyes, letting out a heavy breath that conveyed more than any words could. There was pain in it, and grief.

"My son aside, I never had the kind of life you seem to think I do, Rinoa," he said.

Rinoa turned away this time, to the sea and took a deep, slow breath. Ten years of misery lay at her feet and there was no way to take it back.

"I tried to forget you. I really tried, but," he said, "you were this… ghost that haunted me. I can't sleep without seeing you in my dreams. I couldn't go anywhere without remembering you there. It destroyed my marriage and my career and my whole life and it's killing me."

He stopped, checked his anger and put a hand to his face.

She was killing him in the most painful of ways. The bond made ten years ago when he was still just a boy with no idea of what that meant had torn him apart. She could see it and she could _feel_ it. Days and months and years of longing for what he couldn't get back, of trying to force himself to love another in her place, sleepless nights and chasing ghosts and endless hours of waiting...

"Yet here you are… alive and still completely unaware of the hold you have on me," he said.

Rinoa knew what she needed to do. For his sake, it was the right thing, the humane thing to end this. She couldn't be responsible for his suffering, not when she was already the cause of so much pain and loss.

"Say the word and I'll release you," she said. "Neither of us can live like this."

"What?"

"Say it. Say goodbye and I'll let you go."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "No. I won't."

"Why not?" she asked. "I haven't done you any good, have I?"

"I didn't mean it like that."

He was going to be stubborn. She would just have to end this herself. She wasn't sure if it would work, since she wasn't sure exactly _how_ it worked, but she had to try. For his sake.

"Fine," she said. "Squall Leonhart, I hereby release you from your obligation to me –"

"Stop," he said, stepping forward, fear in his eyes. "Just stop and let's talk."

"If breaking the bond gives you peace, I'll do it, okay?" she said softly. "I don't want to hurt you any more than I already have."

"For ten years, you're the _only_ thing that would have fixed me," he said. "All the time I waited for you, it has to be worth something."

"I didn't ask for you to wait for me..." she choked out.

"I didn't have a choice."

"And you think I did?"

He turned away, his back to her and bracing a palm against a pillar.

"I wish to Hyne you'd come back sooner."

"I've wished for that a thousand times," she said. "I lost…_everything_, Squall. Imagine coming back and finding out that all you are is a memory. So let me be one if it helps."

"No," he whispered.

He turned and came closer, standing over her, taller than she remembered, close enough to reach out and touch if she wanted to. Everything in her wanted to put her hands on his chest, grab hold of his shirt and close the distance between them, but if she did that, there would be no saving him, and no saving herself. Her only option was to sacrifice her own happiness for his. She couldn't continue to wreck him.

"I don't want you to be a memory," he said.

Rinoa pressed herself back against the pillar as he stepped closer, his eyes blazing hot and his face full of anger and desire. She was well aware that the person standing before her was a man, and not the shy, inexperienced boy she'd known. This was not the careful and nervous boy, not the teenager whose lovemaking had been clumsy, yet sweet.

It would be so easy to ignite his passion if she wanted to, and a part of her desperately wanted to find out where it would lead. She saw it in his eyes and she sensed it in his posture and it was so tempting – all she had to do was reach out.

But she didn't know him anymore, did she? He was a stranger. The life and experiences he lived in her absence made him someone she was no longer acquainted with. She knew she could trust him not to take advantage, but she feared if she got caught up in the heat of the moment, it would cost them both dearly.

"Maybe I should just be a memory," she said. "Maybe it's too late for us."

"Is that what you want?"

"If it means I can't hurt you anymore, then yes."

"What about what I want?"

"I'm seventeen, Squall," she said helplessly, "You just turned twenty-eight, right? How in the world does that make any sense? I'm a girl you knew ten years ago."

"I've waited too long to let you go now."

"I don't even know you anymore," she half sobbed. "What you know of me are just memories..."

Tears spilled down her cheeks and he reached out to brush them away, his thumbs catching her tears and she whimpered softly at this touch. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words would come out.

_Oh, Squall. Why are you so stubborn? You're not making this easy._

She could do this. She had to. For his peace of mind.

_I release you. You have no more obligation to me. Go, live your life and find your happiness. _

"Goddammit," Squall growled. "_Don't_."

"I release you," she breathed. "Now please, go. Go home. Be with your son. He needs you. You don't belong to me anymore."

A sharp pain burned through her chest as the link between them frayed and then severed, and it stole away her breath. Squall was gone from her, his presence in her soul absent and the pathway between them broken. She slid slowly to the ground and sat with her knees drawn to her chest. She shut her eyes as Squall spun away from her, unable to watch him go. His footsteps were heavy on the stone path and a sharp, harsh sob echoed through the courtyard and wounded her heart.

When she opened her eyes, he was gone and she was empty. There was no pain or sadness, no hurt and no more obligation. An icy stillness replaced the ache inside her and it left her numb and cold.

So it was done. She'd made her sacrifice for love, to spare him, to give him the peace he deserved.

* * *

Squall didn't know where he was going and he didn't care. He crossed the field, the tall, dry grass crunching underfoot. He fled without direction as his world began to tilt on its axis. In desperation, he reached out to her over and over again, only to find nothing there. She wasn't just pushing him away, she was _gone_. She'd really done it. She'd really severed a ten year bond that drove him to the point of madness and there was nothing left.

If he'd thought he was in pain before, it was nothing compared to this. Breaking the bond did him no favors. When she cut the connection, it tore out his heart and busted apart his mind and left him submerged in flames, burned alive, skin seared, blistered, burned to ash.

Halfway across the field he dropped to his hands and knees and he gagged, retched and came up empty. There was nothing left in him to give up, and he collapsed onto the dry grass, his face meeting damp earth and crackling, dead vegetation.

He lost ten years of his life, too. Didn't she know that? All that pretending and going through the motions, of watching the clock tick away every wasted second of his life, dreaming of a different sort of future. It was all lost, all a waste, _he_ was a waste, and Seth aside, Squall accomplished nothing of value since the end of the war. Just endless hours spent in pointless meetings, days and hours and seconds spent waiting... and here she was, thinking that releasing him would save him.

He thought of Seth, telling him that he couldn't allow her to let him go. Squall failed and nothing could be worse than this. He felt himself being sucked down into nothingness and he welcomed it. Heartbreak and pain faded into something like floating in calm waters, and he drifted, his mind emptied as her absence began to take hold.

He was nothing anymore. A dead man who still had a heartbeat.

For hours, he lay there, floating along in a half-conscious emptiness, somehow still breathing after having vital organs forcibly removed from his body. Blood still flowed through his veins though he was absent his heart.

He thought he heard someone calling his name, and the crunch of grass underfoot somewhere nearby, but he didn't move or acknowledge it. She stole his voice and his words, too. If he stayed here, there would be no reality to face, no truths to speak, just this silent drifting down a lazy river of numb semi-consciousness.

"Rinoa! Leonhart! Where the fuck are you?"

A voice he knew but could no longer put a name to.

It started to rain and he welcomed that, too. Fitting that the damn sky was crying since he couldn't. There wasn't enough left of him to cry, so he let himself be soaked to the skin and the chill cooled the flames of immolation and washed over him like a lover's caress.

He had obligations, but couldn't remember what they were. There were people, somewhere, counting on him, but their names and importance escaped him, too. She took his memories and his heart and his voice, and maybe it was better that way. It wasn't as if he was whole to begin with. What were a few more missing pieces?

"Fuck," a voice said above him. "Dincht, get over here."

Hands lifted him up and tore him away from the soft comfort of nothingness, but he couldn't be bothered to protest or beg to be left alone. The darkness of retreat swam over him and dragged him toward oblivion as they tried to set him on his feet. They held him up, but there were no bones left in his body.

"My god, Rin, what the hell did you do?" a voice muttered.

His body was elastic as he was lifted and his skin moved around, absent structure. He needed his bones back, before he turned to mush, but what was the point if he had no mind or heart and his life was an empty void of clocks and forks tapping against china and everyone on suicide watch? Now they wouldn't be forced to watch him fall because this was the bottom, and there was nothing below where he was now.

But even in this emptiness, there was no peace.

* * *

Notes: If anyone is interested, there is a 4 chapter prequel over on ao3 that covers the evolution of the Seifer/Zell relationship (and other pre-story events) leading up to the beginning of this story. Returning readers may have read it as bonus content on the original posting of this story - it's been revised as well and has been posted as a stand alone/part one titled "Every Other Saturday." Take a look if you're interested - username is also siobhane on Ao3.


	16. Chapter 16

**Sixteen**

* * *

When Rinoa failed to pick Seifer and Zell up at the train station, and neither answered their phone, Seifer assumed they got carried away and were otherwise occupied with one another. The longer he and Zell waited, and the longer their calls went unreturned or answered, the more concerned he became. Zell rented a car, after it became clear something was amiss, and when they arrived home, there was no sign of either of them.

After nearly an hour of searching, they found Squall face down in the field, but Rinoa was still missing. Wherever she was, she left her phone behind and took the bottle of whiskey with her.

Seifer carried a semi-conscious Squall inside, dropped him on the bathroom floor and leaned him against the tub for support. Zell waved a hand in front of Squall's eyes and slapped his cheek lightly but Squall did not respond.

Seifer knew what this was. He went through it himself, after Ultimecia.

He never shared with Rinoa what happened to a Knight when the bond was forcibly broken. Seifer doubted she would choose to end it this way if she was aware of the consequences, but Seifer never anticipated Rinoa would be so rash as to sever the bond without warning.

Seifer sat back on his heels and looked at Zell.

"Where's Rin?"

"Couldn't find her."

"Shit."

"Let's get him dried off and put him to bed or something," Zell said. "Then, we'll figure this out."

Together, they managed to strip off Squall's wet clothes, though Squall's lack of response or assistance made it far more difficult than it needed to be. All the while, Squall stared at nothing, unblinking and totally absent from his body. If he was aware, he would fight this, but Squall just sat there, doing nothing to help himself.

Because he couldn't.

"Damn it, Leonhart," Seifer muttered as he picked an unclothed Squall up off the bathroom floor. "You weigh a freakin' ton. Get the door."

Zell opened the door to one of the guest bedrooms and turned down the blankets on the bed. Seifer dumped Squall onto the mattress and yanked the covers up over him. Squall curled up on his side and muttered something that neither of them could make out.

"Say again?"

He repeated it, but the only clear word was bones.

Zell took out his phone. "I'm gonna call Laguna."

"Yeah," Seifer said. "I'm going to go see if I can find Rinoa."

"I checked the beach and the lighthouse already," Zell said as he lifted his phone to his ear. "I don't know where else she could be."

"I'll find her."

"Come back," Squall said. "Please come back."

Seifer pressed a hand over his mouth and stalked from the room and into the kitchen, then out the back door, where he stood on the deck for a minute to survey the beach below. If she was down there, she was well hidden from sight. He took the steps two at a time and strode across the beach, eyes peeled for any sign of her.

He searched the beach and the lighthouse, but the only evidence of visitors was what he and Zell left behind the last time. When he returned to the house, Zell waited on the deck.

"Any luck?"

"No," he said. "What did Loire have to say?"

"Well, the good news is, he's at the hotel in town," Zell said. "The bad news is Squall's kid is freaking out."

"What do you mean freaking out?"

"Laguna said he started sobbing hysterically hours ago and hasn't stopped since. I could hear him in the background," Zell said. "Squall took the car, and the agency won't let Laguna rent another, so they can't get out here unless they walk."

"I'll go pick them up," Seifer said. "You stay here in case she comes back."

At the hotel, a child's bawling bled through the closed door and into the hall as Seifer knocked. Laguna answered, strands of his salt and pepper pony tail loose around his face. In his arms, Seth Leonhart sniffled and moaned, and his eyes were swollen, his face wet with tears.

It was the same as before. The second Seifer laid eyes on the kid, some sixth sense stirred in him. There was something about this kid. He was sure of it.

"What happened?" Laguna asked.

"Best guess? Rinoa severed the bond," Seifer said. "And he didn't agree to it."

"Is he okay?"

Seifer cast a glance at the kid and chose his words carefully.

"Speaking from experience, he has a tough road ahead of him."

Back at the house, Zell waited outside, propped against a pillar with his arms folded. He pushed away from it as they piled out of the truck. He greeted Laguna and Seth with a nod.

"She back?" Seifer asked.

"Nope."

To Seifer's surprise, Seth latched onto his hand as they headed up the walk. Tears still trailed down his cheeks, but he was more composed than before. He peered up at Seifer and tightened his grip. Seth's hand was so small compared to his own, but that sixth sense spoke of strength and power beyond Seifer's reckoning.

Zell led Laguna to the guest room while Seifer and Seth stayed behind. Seifer wasn't so sure the kid should see his father that way. Better to let Laguna go in first and assess the situation.

"I told her not to do this," Seth said. "And I told him not to let her."

Seifer dropped down so his face was level with the boy's. There was definitely something unsettling about this kid, something powerful that both intrigued and terrified Seifer.

"Everything's going to go bad, and dad isn't okay and there's no one to protect me until I have a Knight of my own," the boy said. "I can't see what happens now. It's all fuzzy."

Seifer sat back against the wall and stared at the kid.

A Knight?

As the pieces of the puzzle came together in Seifer's head, he focused not on the impossibility of it, but on the boy. Whatever he was besides, he was only five.

"Your dad's going to be okay," Seifer assured him. "He's upset right now, but he'll be okay."

"Why did she do it?" Seth asked. "I showed her the bad things."

"I don't know kid. Maybe she was trying to help."

"I didn't explain it right and now it's all messed up."

Seth broke off into sobs, dropped into Seifer's lap and bawled into his shirt.

"Quit cryin', kid," Seifer said. "He's gonna be fine."

Zell poked his head out the door, saw Seifer on the floor with Seth and smirked. Seifer scowled back, in no mood to take shit for being nice to a scared little kid.

"Seth, why don't you come see your dad?" Zell said.

"Sure that's a good idea?" Seifer asked. He lifted Seth out of his lap and set him on his feet. "Given the givens?"

"No, but Laguna does," Zell said. "Thought it might help."

Zell joined Seifer on the floor, his back against the wall and drew his knees to his chest.

Seifer wiped a hand across his face as he turned this new bit of information over and over in his head. The kid was a fucking Sorcerer. How that could be was something only the Gods knew, but there was no doubt it was truth.

He wondered if Garden knew. Hell, did Squall know? And if so, what was he doing to protect the kid? If word got out, Galbadia would be all over it, and Hyne knew how many others desirous of power would seek him out to exploit it.

"Is that what you were like after?" Zell asked. "You never really talked about that part."

"Yeah, pretty much exactly like that."

Zell dropped a hand to Seifer's knee.

"She took... everything... with her when she left. I couldn't feel anything for a long time. Took a while to get it back."

"How long?"

"It was a couple weeks before I was aware of things going on around me," he said. "And maybe a month before I could answer questions or have a conversation. And a lot longer to get the rest back."

"How much longer?"

"Maybe your third or fourth visit," Seifer said. "I was... It wasn't a strong emotion, but it was something. I was confused about why you were there."

Zell watched him silently as Seifer focused on the wall.

"It came back in pieces," Seifer said, "confusion, then grief, guilt and sadness, anger, annoyance. Always when you were there."

"No good feelings?" Zell asked. "Not, I don't know, happiness or amusement?"

"Those came later," Seifer said. "It was still you that triggered them."

"I don't know if I should feel good or bad about that."

"What do you think?" Seifer asked.

"I think that is really messed up."

There was a pause as Zell cast a glance down the hall and shifted as if to stand.

"Guess I should go start dinner."

"Don't worry about it," Seifer said. "We'll make sandwiches or something. Just stay put."

The truth was, Seifer needed Zell to stay. Not for comfort, but because he didn't want to be alone with his thoughts.

* * *

When Laguna and Seth finally emerged from the bedroom, Zell's butt was numb from sitting on the floor and it was late. Laguna's face was grim and Seth was dry-eyed but tired.

"He's asleep," Laguna said. "I'm going to head back to the hotel and get Seth to bed."

"No need to drive all the way back this late," Seifer said. "We've got plenty of room."

"I don't want to impose," Laguna said.

"You're not," Seifer said. "Go put the kid to bed."

Zell led Laguna to the smaller of the two remaining rooms and Laguna helped Seth out of his clothes and put him in one of Zell's t-shirts.

"I'm about to make some sandwiches or something while we wait for Rin to come back," Zell said.

"Seth, you want some dinner before bed?" Laguna asked.

Seth shook his head and flopped over into the pillow. Laguna covered him, kissed him good night and joined Zell at the door.

"I'll be right out here if you need me, Seth."

Seth didn't open his eyes or answer.

In the kitchen, Zell made ham sandwiches and heated some soup from Seifer's stockpile. For once, he was glad for the convenience, even if Seifer's tastes in canned soup left something to be desired.

"Did Rinoa come back yet?" Laguna asked.

"No," Zell said. "I'm really starting to worry. She doesn't take off like this."

"She probably just needed to be alone for a bit," Seifer said. "She'll come back when she's cooled off."

"I should have come out here with him," Laguna said. "I just thought they needed time alone."

"We all thought this would turn out different," Seifer said. "Believe me, I never would have given him the fucking ring if I thought she was going to drop him like that."

Seifer opened the fridge and retrieved two beers. He offered one to Zell, who declined and nodded at the cabinet as he cut tomatoes for the sandwiches. Seifer poured him a whiskey and set it beside the cutting board.

"Something to drink?" Seifer asked Laguna. "Beer? Whiskey?"

"You have any juice?"

Zell smiled at that long ago memory of Laguna's companions teasing him about drinking juice in a bar. The only time Zell recalled Laguna drinking at all was at Squall's wedding and Liz's funeral.

"There's orange juice," Zell said. "Or tea, I think."

"Orange juice is fine," Laguna said. "I never could handle alcohol. I tried, but... I fall down a lot."

Zell laughed. "Yeah, me too."

"Doesn't stop you though," Seifer said and poked Zell's shoulder.

Zell snapped his dishtowel at him and Seifer pinched his arm and twisted, hard.

"Oww. Dick," Zell muttered and shoved Seifer away. "Sandwiches are ready, soup's almost done. Help yourselves."

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Zell noticed the way Seifer eyed the former President, who casually peeled the crusts off his sandwich and wondered if it was weird for Seifer to share a meal with someone he admired as a child, and then later, stood against during the war.

"Did Squall say anything?" Zell asked.

"He just kept muttering about how she'd stolen his bones?" Laguna said. "Couldn't make out the rest."

"Mmm," Seifer said over his plate. "That sounds about right."

Zell looked at him, interested in learning more about those missing pieces he sensed during the early days. He remembered how empty Seifer seemed, especially the first few visits.

"It's like everything that matters is gone after she leaves you. Your heart, your lungs, everything but your skin goes away, and it's like you can't breathe, like your heart stops beating, like... Everything that made you you gets burned away or sucked out and all that's left is a shell..."

The silence that followed was absolute. Seifer looked up from his plate, caught them staring and shrugged.

"At least, that's what it was like for me."

The more Zell heard about this, the worse he felt about it. In retrospect, his anger at Seifer during those first visits was misplaced. If he'd known, he wouldn't have been so unkind.

"But you got through it," Laguna said, encouraged that Seifer was not a drooling, mindless idiot. "You survived."

"Took a while," Seifer said. "I didn't have people around me that cared enough to get me through it."

"I'm sorry," Zell said softly. "I didn't know."

Seifer cut his eyes at Zell. "Because I didn't tell you."

"Yeah, but screaming at you like that... I feel like a real shithead now."

"You are a shithead."

Zell tossed a bit of his crust at Seifer's face.

"Here I am, trying to apologize and you're gonna be an ass."

"You expected something different?" Seifer asked. "And don't apologize."

There was a long silence as they finished their meal. Zell lost his appetite halfway through his sandwich and discarded the rest in the trash. He poured himself another drink and returned to the table as Seifer finished the last of his soup.

"Can I ask you about Seth?" Seifer asked.

Laguna sat back in his chair and his normally open expression turned guarded.

"What do you want to know?"

"How the hell did a five-year-old boy become a Sorcerer?"

That definitely wasn't what Zell expected. Not even close.

"..."

"Look, I already know," Seifer said. "And I'm in a world of shit if we're found out, so you might as well be honest with me."

Laguna rubbed his chin and stared at the table for half a minute before his shoulders sagged and he nodded.

"We don't know how it happened," Laguna said, "but you're right."

"Hyne Almighty," Zell murmured. "This is a joke, right?"

"No," Laguna said. "I've seen what he can do with my own eyes. It's true."

Zell stared at Laguna, stunned by this new, weird development. Seth, a Sorcerer? He was five. And a boy. And it wasn't like there was a dying Sorceress on every street corner. Where the hell would Seth have come in contact with that kind of power, and why would it latch onto him?

"Who knows about this?" Seifer asked.

"Myself, Squall, maybe Rinoa, and a doctor from Esthar who specializes in that sort of thing."

"Not Odine," Seifer said. "Please tell me that twisted fuck doesn't know."

"I wouldn't let that lunatic near my grandson with a cotton ball, let alone give him a chance to study him," Laguna said. "Don't worry. Dr. Mara is discreet. She understands what could happen and she sympathizes."

"What do you plan to do about it?"

"To be honest? We don't know. Seth's been kicked out of school, so there's no danger of him showing off for the other kids, but, I don't know. There aren't a lot of options. Dr. Mara's working on a new version of an Odine bangle that will keep his powers contained when needed, something that actually works, but it's not ready yet."

"If you go into hiding, can you protect the kid?" Seifer asked.

"I'm fifty-four years old," Laguna said. "I'd fight like hell or die trying, but I'm not as limber as I used to be."

Zell wondered if there was even a place to hide. Both Squall and Laguna were well known, given the high profile and political nature of their previous jobs. No matter where they went, someone would recognize them.

"If you need a place to sort it out," Seifer said, "this is about as remote as you're going to get. I'm already harboring one fugitive, what's one more? Besides, it doesn't look like Leonhart's in any shape to travel."

While Zell wouldn't mind the company at all, he didn't expect Seifer to care what happened to them. It wasn't his problem, and he was under no obligation to take them in, but he offered. Which led Zell to believe, Seifer felt responsible.

Seifer got up to clean up the dinner mess, which wasn't much since Zell had the foresight to use paper plates, so the dinner dishes amounted to a handful. Zell helped himself to another drink and glanced at the time. It was nearing midnight, and Rinoa still wasn't back.

"I think we should go look for her," Zell said. "I'm getting really worried. If something happened..."

"I can help you look," Laguna offered.

"Naw, it's all right," Seifer said. "Might be a good idea to stick around, in case she comes back."

Zell and Seifer set out into the night, armed with flashlights, Seifer's gunblade and Zell's fists, and crossed the beach for the third time. They searched the lighthouse again, and again, there was no sign of Rinoa anywhere.

They stood on the observation deck and surveyed the beach, both unsure of where to look next.

"What the hell is that?" Seifer asked and pointed toward the ridge above the beach.

Through the trees something flickered like a candle.

"What's up there?"

"Don't know. Never bothered to look."

"Well, let's find out."

They left the lighthouse and climbed the stairs behind the house. To the right was a path almost hidden by dense vegetation, and they pushed their way through tree limbs and vines until the path widened. Beyond, the remains of crumbling, ivy-covered cottages lined the trail and Seifer stopped before one to pan his flashlight over the structure.

"Huh."

"What?" Zell asked.

"Just thinking."

"Do I want to know?"

"Wonder how long these have been here."

"We can find out in the morning," Zell said. "More pressing issues at hand."

"Yeah, yeah."

Further down, they found a cabin that wasn't destroyed, its roof intact. A light flickered behind one of the windows, not a candle, but definitely a flame.

Inside, the front room was full of furniture covered in dust cloths, like giant, misshapen ghosts. He panned his flashlight over them, both spooked and curious.

"Rin?" he called as he turned in a slow circle. "You here?"

Light spilled out from beyond a partially closed door, and he took a cautious step toward it as a curious ticking noise that he couldn't place echoed through the room. He pushed the door open and peered inside.

The room was a blazing amber, illuminated by a floating ball of fire that hovered near the ceiling like a globe suspended on a string.

At a desk on the wall to Zell's left, Rinoa sat, typing on an old-fashioned typewriter. He shivered at the ominous click-click-click-ding of the manual keys and the sharp zip as she began a new line.

"Rin?"

Wings of inky black extended from her back, gleaming almost crimson in the firelight. She turned to Zell, her gaze predatory. Her hands were claw-like and gnarled. Dark lines curled down the side of her face, and there was something very,very wrong with her eyes.

Zell took a step back as Seifer grasped his shoulder hard enough to make Zell wince.

"Holy shit..." Seifer breathed.

"What do you want?" she asked. Her tone was flat, throaty.

"What the hell happened?" Zell asked. "Are you okay?"

She ignored them, took a swig of whiskey from a nearly empty bottle and returned her attention to the typewriter. She pecked away at the keys as her wings beat against the air.

Zell moved closer, a step at a time, as if approaching a dangerous animal. Seifer hung back, near the door.

"It isn't okay," she purred. "Don't lie to yourself."

"You know who I am, right?" Zell asked. "You know me."

"Of course I do," she said. "You'd make an excellent Knight, if you weren't so soft around the heart."

"Rin, you had a Knight," Zell said. "Remember? You severed the bond."

"I remember."

Goosebumps raised on Zell's skin and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Something was definitely wrong with her.

"He could still be your Knight, you know," Zell said and moved closer. "It's not too late."

"I broke him," she said. "It was too easy. I need someone stronger."

"Rin, stop this. Please," Zell said. "Whatever happened, whatever this is, it's okay. We love you and we're going to help you get through this, okay? Just come back."

Her throaty chuckle chilled Zell to the bone. This was not Rinoa. She didn't look like herself and she didn't sound like herself, and Zell considered that maybe Ultimecia was back, or that some other Sorceress had hijacked his best friend.

Something brushed against his brain, or that's what it felt like, and the whisper inside his head was almost too alluring to resist. He stepped back and forced her presence from his mind.

"No," he said through clenched teeth. "Not like this."

"What about you?" she asked without turning around. "You already know how this works."

Seifer howled and spat out a curse.

Zell didn't think, he only reacted. He lunged forward, swept out his leg and knocked the chair out from under her. She crashed to the floor, but an instant later, a clawed hand seized his throat and he was shoved back against the wall hard enough to force the breath from his lungs.

The creature looking back at him bore little resemblance to the reckless but ultimately innocent girl Zell knew. Tawny eyes searched his face, her smile cruel as he struggled to free himself.

"Protective, aren't you?" she said seductively. "Maybe you're a better candidate than I thought."

"Rin, if you're in there, please, for fuck's sake, come back," Zell hissed. "Please come back. Please, please, please... Don't do this."

Something in his desperation must have reached her. The gold in her eyes melted away and the lines on her cheeks faded. It was Rinoa that stared back at him, wide eyed and her chin trembling. The hand around his throat was just a hand, and as it released him, he slid to the floor and gasped for air.

She dropped to her knees, her face in her hands.

Zell scooted toward her and hooked a finger under her chin and searched for any sign of the , Sorceress she'd just been. Nothing but a scared, seventeen-year-old girl peered back at him.

"Zell..." she whined. "I..."

"Shh, it's okay," he murmured and folded her into his arms. "It's okay. You're okay."

"I'm sorry," Rinoa said. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't control it."

Seifer yanked the sheet of paper out of the typewriter and held it out for Zell to see.

**come back to me come back to me come back to me come back**

**come back come back come back**

**i'll kill them all**

**i'll kill them**

**come back**

Zell shivered and glanced up at Seifer. What the hell were they going to do?

He gathered Rinoa into his arms, lifted her, and followed Seifer out of the house. She held on like he was the only thing keeping her from coming apart. Ahead of him, Seifer slashed at the vines and branches like they personally offended him.

Back at the house, Zell put Rinoa to bed and stayed with her until she cried herself to sleep. It was nearly two in the morning by the time he turned off the light and stepped out into the hall. Seifer guided him back to their room, where he kicked off his shoes and sat on the edge of the bed, too tired to think straight.

Seifer clasped the back of Zell's neck and squeezed.

"That was really fuckin' stupid, Dincht."

"What?"

"Going after her like that. She could have killed you."

"I was more worried about you."

Seifer was silent for a minute. Zell pushed his hands through his hair and leaned his forehead against his palms.

"You were protecting me."

Zell didn't say anything. There was nothing to say.

"Zell."

He hadn't thought about anything in that moment except making sure she wasn't able to get inside Seifer's head. It never even occurred to him that he might be putting himself in danger.

"That was the bravest, stupidest thing I've ever seen you do," Seifer said. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

"I'd do it again if I had to," Zell said. He rubbed his tired eyes. "What do you think happened? Was that because she broke the bond?"

Seifer nodded.

"What if..." Zell began, not knowing how to ask the question on his mind without Seifer flipping out. "What if, say, temporarily, someone gave her that bond back?"

"You mean like a stand-in Knight?"

"Something like that," Zell said. "Until we figure something else out."

"It could work," Seifer said reluctantly. "I don't like it, but it could work."

"Better than being hijacked."

"Maybe," Seifer said. "Let's not talk about this tonight."

Zell agreed, if only because he was too tired to think anymore. He stripped down to his boxers, dropped onto the bed, and let Seifer be needy. He let out a soft sigh as Seifer's lips brushed against his and he closed his eyes, wondering at how close they'd really come to disaster tonight.

"Zell?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't ever do anything like that again. It was brave as fuck but it was also really stupid."

"You already said that," Zell said tiredly. "And I already told you I'd do it again."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."


End file.
